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IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 




JOHN JAMES AUDUBON 
From the portrait by G. P. A. Healy, London, iS 



IN 

AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 



CHARLES WENDELL TOWNSEND, M.D. 
AUTHOR OF 

• 'Along the Labrador Coast, ''^ "A Labrador Spring ' ' 

** Captain Cartwright and his Labrador Journal'''' 

and " Sand Dunes and Salt Marshes'" 



WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 

AND A MAP 




BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 

1918 



,7 '76 



COPYRIGHT, I918, BY CHARLES W. TOWNSEND 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

Published April rqi8 



m -\ 19(8 

'.4494877 



PREFACE 

It is always a satisfaction to accomplish some- 
thing one has dreamed about for years. Ever 
since my boyhood, when I read Audubon's 
Birds of America, with its frequent references 
to the Labrador coast, I have longed to fol- 
low the great ornithologist's footsteps in those 
regions. In 1906, on a visit to eastern Labra- 
dor, I had a glimpse of Bradore and Blanc 
Sablon, the termination of Audubon's trip, 
and in 1909 and 191 2 I reached from the West 
the starting-point of his trip at Natashquan 
and looked eagerly into the promised land. 
Only after another interval of three years was 
I able to carry out my long-cherished plan 
and explore the intervening two hundred and 
fifty miles — Audubon's Labrador. 

I am indebted to many friends on the Labra- 
dor coast who are mentioned in these pages. 
I wish to thank Mr. Ruthven Deane, of Chi- 
cago, for the pictures of Thomas Lincoln and 
Joseph A. Coolidge and for his interest in this 



PREFACE 

work; also Dr. Frederick C. Shattuck for the 
photograph of his father and for the letters 
published in the Appendix. 

The portion of Chapter XII concerning the 
old stumps at Blanc Sablon has been pub- 
lished in Rhodora for September, 191 6, and a 
part of Chapter XIII has been published in the 
Seventh Annual Report of the Commission of 
Conservation, Canada, 191 6. Chapter XIV 
was published in The Auk, for 1914. 

In the Index will be found the scientific 
names of the plants and animals referred to 
in the text. 

Boston, February, igi8.- 



CONTENTS 

I. Audubon's Labrador Trip i 

II. To THE Starting-Point 27 

III. American Harbor, or Natashquan . . 46 

IV. Grand Romaine and Old Romaine . . 74 

V. VVapitagun no 

VI. As far as Dr. Grenfell's Hospital at Har- 
rington 127 

VII, Little Mecattina Island and Mutton Bay 153 

VIII. Through the Petite Rigolet to the St. 

Augustine River 166 

IX. Shecatica and Jacques Cartier . . .182 

X. A Descendant of the Chevalier de St. 
Paul, with Remarks on Vinland the 
Good and the Port of Brest . . . 208 

XL Bradore Bay and Perroquet Island . . 230 

XII. Blanc Sablon 244 

XIII. Conservation in Labrador .... 272 

XIV. A Plea for the Conservation of the Eider 301 

Appendix 317 

Index 339 



vu 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

John James Audubon Frontispiece 

From the portrait by G. P. A. Healy, 1838, in the 
possession of the Boston Society of Natural History 

George C. Shattuck, William Ingalls, John 
WooDHousE Audubon, and Joseph A. Coolidge . 4 

Thomas Lincoln 12 

Lincoln's Sparrow: Audubon Plate . . . .12 

Captain J. Hearn 28 

Napoleon A. Comeau 28 

The Priests of Natashquan 36 

M. JoHAN Beetz -36 

Falls of Grand River of Piashte Bay ... 42 

Nest of Red-breasted Merganser: Labrador- 
Tea 42 

American Harbor, or Natashquan . . . .46 

Eider Ducks : Audubon Plate 46 

MONTAGNAIS InDIAN GiRLS PICKING MOUNTAIN 

Cranberries {Graines Rouges) at Natashquan . 54 

Indian Couple at Romaine 54 

The Sea Star . . . 76 

ix 



ILLUSTKATIONS 

Captain A. Edmond Joncas 76 

Looking North over Grand Romaine River 
NEAR its Mouth 86 

Indians at Romaine 86 

Surf on Harbor Island, Old Romaine ... 94 

Hauling a Cod-Trap 94 

Great Black-backed Gulls 98 

Photograph by Howard H. Cleaves 

Young Great Black-backed Gulls .... 98 

Outer Island : Murres and their Eggs : Double- 
crested Cormorants, Nests, and Young . .112 

Cape Whittle 118 

Nest of Double-crested Cormorant contain- 
ing Young 118 

Wapitagun: Nesting-Pool of Red-throated Loon 124 

Red-throated Loon : Audubon Plate . . . 124 

The Captain and William putting up the 
Cross at Matchiatik Island 128 

Nest of Ring-billed Gull with Eggs and 
Young .128 

Cleaning Fish at Seal-Net Point, or Pointe 
Au Maurier 132 

Near the Summit of Little Mecattina: Poised 
Boulders 132 

Harrington and the Hospital 146 

X 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

Our Friends the Eskimo Puppies and their 
Mother at Harrington ...... 146 

The Sea Star in Hare Harbor, Little Mecat- 
TiNA Island 158 

Mutton Bay (Baie de Portage) 168 

Samuel Robertson, 3D, and some of his Dogs, 
AT Sparr Point . 168 

Petite Rigolet 174 

The Cook and the First Mate of the Sea Star 174 

Sandy Island 184 

Cumberland Head 184 

Strand Wheat 188 

Glacial Lunoid Furrows and Grooves . . .188 

The Sea Star in Shecatica Inlet .... 194 

Shecatica River 194 

Looking down Shecatica Inlet from the Grand 
Portage 198 

Framework of Sweat-House at Indian Camp- 
ing-Place ON the Grand Portage .... 198 

Entering Shecatica Inlet 204 

Spruce Grouse 204 

Grassy Island: Raised Beach 222 

Old Fort : Site of Brest 222 

Showing Raised Beaches 

A Glimpse of Bradore in the Fog .... 240 

xi 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

Perroquet Island 240 

Cow Parsnips and Strand Wheat at Perroquet 
Island 244 

Blanc Sablon : Job Brothers and Company, 
Limited 244 

The Cliffs at Blanc Sablon . . . . . 248 

The Valley at Blanc Sablon 248 

Photograph by Edmund Hunt 

A Descendant of the Chevalier de St. Paul . 268 

Davy, a Big Cod, and Mr. Grant .... 268 

Photograph by Edmund Hunt 

Double-crested Cormorants leaving their 
Nests at Gull Island off Cape Whittle . 290 

Double -crested Cormorants and Murres . . 290 

Facsimile of a Letter from Audubon to Dr. 
George C. Shattuck 334 

Map of Audubon's Labrador 338 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

CHAPTER I 
Audubon's Labrador trip 

FOR many years John James Audubon, the 
great ornithologist, had contemplated a trip 
to Labrador in order to study and paint the birds 
of that coast for his monumental work **The 
Birds of America." On the 6th of June, 1833, he 
sailed from Eastport, Maine, in the schooner 
Ripley, of one hundred and six tons burden, com- 
manded by Captain Emery. His party consisted 
of five young and vigorous men, all between 
eighteen and twenty-one years of age, who were 
looking forward to all the pleasures, hardships, 
and adventures of the trip, and to doing loyal 
work for their leader in procuring specimens of 
birds and eggs as well as other objects of natural 
history. Of these, George C. Shattuck, of Bos- 
ton, was afterwards a well-known physician, 
under whom many years later it was my priv- 
ilege to serve as house officer at the Massachu- 

1 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

setts General Hospital. He was the son of Dr. 
George Cheyne Shattuck, and he died in 1893 
in his eightieth year. His two sons, Frederick C. 
and George B., and his grandson, George C., are 
all well-known physicians in Boston to-day. 
Another was William Ingalls, of Boston, who 
afterwards became a physician. He was a 
charming man and one who carried the bloom 
and optimism of youth until his death within a 
month of his ninety-first birthday in 1903. A 
motto he once sent me with a pair of sugar tongs 
is characteristic of the man: "Something to pick 
up sweets with as onward you journey along." 
Joseph A. Coolidge, of Maine, the third of this 
band, died in California in 1901 at the age of 
eighty-six. The fourth was Thomas Lincoln, of 
Dennysville, Maine, the son of an old friend of 
Audubon and one whose name ornithologists all 
remember, as it was immortalized by Audubon 
in the name of a new species of sparrow discov- 
ered in Labrador. He died at the age of seventy- 
one on his birthday, March 27, in 1883. There 
remains Audubon's son, John Woodhouse Audu- 
bon, the artist, who, of this band of young men, 
was the only one to fail to reach advanced age, 
for he died in his fortieth year, in 1862. He was 



AUDUBON'S LABRADOR TRIP 

the father of Miss Maria R. Audubon, who has 
preserved for all time her father's history in 
that interesting work "Audubon and his Jour- 
nals." 

A letter written October 9, 1896, to Miss Au- 
dubon by Mr. Joseph Coolidge says of the great 
leader: "You had only to meet him to love him; 
and when you had conversed with him for a 
moment, you looked upon him as an old friend, 
rather than a stranger. ... To this day I can 
see him, a magnificent gray-haired man, child- 
like in his simplicity, kind-hearted, noble-souled, 
lover of nature and lover of youth, friend of hu- 
manity, and one whose religion was the golden 
rule." 1 

Dr. William Ingalls,^ in a letter to Mr. Ruth- 
ven Deane, dated October 30, 1902, gives an 
interesting outline of his recollection of the 
individuals of the party as follows: — 

"Mr. Audubon was known by many, and I 
think there is no exception to the fact that those 
that have spoken of him have testified to his 
great amiability and manliness, his humanity, 
and it has always seemed to me he was one of 

* Audubon and his Journals, vol. i, p. 68. 
2 The Auk, vol. xxvii (19 lo), p. 47. 

3 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

those men who, on meeting, one would at once 
say, ' Bless you, dear man.' 

"Tom Lincoln, quiet, reserved, sensible, prac- 
tical and reliable. George C. Shattuck, a quiet 
man, but if you had thought him a goose you 
would soon have discovered your mistake. Joe 
Coolidge, unselfish, with a lot of sea and other 
practical knowledge, and a right good fellow. 
John W. Audubon, always good-natured, he and 
his papa the best of (boyish) friends, cheering us 
sometimes with his violin. I have spoken of the 
Captain whom we all honored for his skill and 
his evident desire to help the expedition, and 
now let me repeat a truth which was uttered 
by Mr. Audubon: 'Brought together, strangers, 
three months in a small ship, we can say there 
was not a word or spirit of an unpleasant nature 
in all that time.*" 

Mr. Ruthven Deane tells me that Captain 
Emery died of yellow fever in 1840, and that the 
schooner Ripley met her fate a few years later 
when she was wrecked in the Bay of Chaleurs. 

In a letter,^ written to his son Victor on the 
eve of his departure, Audubon says: "We are 

^ This and the following quotations in this chapter are from 
"The Labrador Journal" in Audubon and his Journals, re- 
ferred to above. 




GEORGE C. SHATTUCK 



WILLIAM INGALLS 




JOHN WOODHOUSE AUDUBON JOSEPH A. COOLIDGE 



AUDUBON'S LABRADOR TRIP 

well provided as to clothes, and strange figures, 
indeed, do we cut in our dresses, I promise you: 
fishermen's boots, the soles of which are all 
nailed to enable us to keep our footing on the 
sea- weeds, trousers of fearnought so coarse that 
our legs look like bears' legs, oiled jackets and 
over-trousers for rainy weather, and round, 
white, wool hats with a piece of oil cloth dangling 
on our shoulders to prevent the rain from run- 
ning down our necks. A coarse bag is strapped 
on the back to carry provisions on inland jour- 
neys, with our guns and hunting-knives; you can 
form an idea of us from this." 

At last they were off on June 6, 1833, amid the 
cheers of the whole "male population" of East- 
port, and the booming of cannon from the bat- 
teries on shore and a revenue cutter in the har- 
bor. Three days later they were "all shockingly 
sea-sick, crossing that worst of all dreadful bays, 
the Bay of Fundy." They came to anchor amid 
a fleet of fishermen in the harbor of Canso, and 
had a brief run ashore, and later touched at Jes- 
tico Island off the western coast of Cape Breton. 
On July 13 they landed at the Magdalen Islands 
and with the thermometer at 44° "we blew our 
fingers and drank our coffee, feeling as if in the 

5 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

very heart of winter." As Audubon was follow- 
ing a tortuous path, he suddenly "came plump 
upon one of God's best finished jewels, a woman. 
She saw us first, for women are always keenest 
in sight and sympathy, in perseverance and pa- 
tience, in fortitude, and love, and sorrow, and 
faith, and, for aught I know, much more. At the 
instant that my eyes espied her, she was in full 
run towards her cottage, holding to her bosom a 
fine babe, simply covered with a very short skirt, 
the very appearance of which set me shivering. 
The woman was dressed in coarse French home- 
spun, a close white cotton cap, which entirely 
surrounded her face, tied under her chin, and I 
thought her the wildest-looking woman, both in 
form and face, I had seen for many a day. At a 
venture, I addressed her in French, and it an- 
swered well, for she responded in a wonderful 
jargon, about one third of which I understood, 
and abandoned the rest to a better linguist, 
should one ever come to the island." 

The next day they set sail for what Mr. God- 
win, their pilot, "called 'The Bird Rocks,' where 
he told us that Gannets {Sula hassana) bred in 
great numbers." At eleven o'clock Audubon saw 
the rock plainly, "and thought it covered with 



AUDUBON'S LABRADOR TRIP 

snow to the depth of several feet; this appear- 
ance existed on every portion of the flat, project- 
ing shelves. Godwin said, with the coolness of a 
man who had visited this Rock for ten successive 
seasons, that what we saw was not snow — but 
Gannets ! I rubbed my eyes, took my spy-glass, 
and in an instant the strangest picture stood be- 
fore me. They were birds we saw, — a mass of 
birds of such a size as I never before cast my eyes 
on. . . . No man who has not seen what we have 
this day can form the least idea of the impression 
the sight made on our minds." It was too rough 
to land, and they sailed on, all except Coolidge 
"deadly sick," but Audubon looked forward 
with eagerness to the landing on the coast of 
Labrador. "My thoughts were filled, not with 
airy castles, but with expectations of the new 
knowledge of birds and quadrupeds which I 
hoped to acquire." 

At five o'clock on June 17, 1833, "the cry of 
land rang in our ears, and my heart bounded 
with joy; so much for anticipation. . . . The 
shores appeared to be margined with a broad 
and handsome sand-beach; our imaginations 
now saw Bears, Wolves, and Devils of all sorts 
scampering away on the rugged shore." They 

7 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

came to anchor in what was then called Ameri- 
can Harbor, now Natashquan, at the mouth of 
the Little Natashquan River some five miles to 
the westward of the mouth of the Great Natash- 
quan River. "And now we are positively on the 
Labrador coast, latitude 50° and a little more, — 
farther north than I ever was before. But what 
a country! When we landed and passed the 
beach, we sank nearly up to our knees in mosses 
of various sorts, producing as we moved through 
them a curious sensation. These mosses, which 
at a distance look like hard rocks, are, under 
foot, like a velvet cushion. We scrambled about, 
and with anxiety stretched our necks and 
looked over the country far and near, but not 
a square foot of earth could we see. A poor, 
rugged, miserable country; the trees like so 
many mops of wiry composition, and where the 
soil is not rocky it is boggy up to a man's 
waist." 

They remained at American Harbor until 
June 28, and employed the time well in study- 
ing the land- and sea-birds of the vicinity ; for 
the last five days storm and head winds pre- 
vented their attempts to depart. Audubon 
speaks of ^'millions'* of velvet ducks — white- 

8 



AUDUBON'S LABRADOR TRIP 

winged scoters — flying from the northwest 
to the southeast, and of the immense numbers 
of eiders, murres, and razor-billed auks. He 
is impressed with the extremely shy and wary 
character of the waterfowl, "which to me in 
this wonderfully wild country is surprising." 
On one occasion he walked four miles up the 
shore of the Little Natashquan River as far 
as the falls, but most of the time he spent at 
his drawing-table, leaving the work of procur- 
ing specimens to the younger members of his 
party. He begins his day at two o'clock, "for 
we have scarcely any darkness now," and at 
his work he is able to hear some bird songs. 
He says "so sonorous is the song of the Fox- 
colored Sparrow that I can hear it for hours, 
most distinctly, from the cabin where I am 
drawing, and yet it is distant more than a 
quarter of a mile." In another place he says: 
"The Turdus migratorius [Robin] must be the 
hardiest of the whole genus. I hear it at this 
moment, eight o'clock at night, singing most 
joyously its 'Good-night* and 'All's well!' to 
the equally hardy Labradorians." 

Audubon was astonished at the rapidity 
of development of the arctic spring on these 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

shores. He notes on June 21 : "I found many 
small flowers open this day, where none ap- 
peared last evening. All vegetable life here is 
of the pygmy order, and so ephemeral that it 
shoots out of the tangled mass of ages, blooms, 
fructifies, and dies, in a few weeks." 

He came in contact with the nefarious trade 
of the "egger." "We ascertained to-day that 
a party of four men from Halifax took last 
spring nearly forty thousand eggs, which they 
sold at Halifax and other towns at twenty- 
five cents per dozen, making over $800; 
this was done in about two months. Last 
year upward of twenty sail were engaged in 
'egging'; so some idea may be formed of the 
birds that are destroyed in this rascally way." 

On June 22, Audubon visited the little set- 
tlement at the mouth of the Great Natash- 
quan River, the establishment of the Hudson's 
Bay Company, and described the Montagnais 
Indians there. He says: "So shy of strangers 
are the agents of the Fur and Fish Company 
that they will evade all questions respecting 
the interior of the country, and indeed will 
willingly tell you such untruths as at once 
disgust and shock you. All this through the 

10 



AUDUBON'S LABRADOR TRIP 

fear that strangers should attempt to settle 
here, and divide with them the profits which 
they enjoy." 

On the same day the vessel Gulnare, Cap- 
tain Bayfield, entered the harbor on a survey- 
ing cruise. He found the ship's doctor to be 
a student of botany and conchology. "Thus 
men of the same tastes meet everywhere, yet 
surely I did not expect to meet a naturalist 
on the Labrador coast." Later he dined on the 
Gulnare at five o'clock, "and was obliged to 
shave and dress — ■ quite a bore on the coast 
of Labrador, believe me." The party con- 
sisted of the captain, the surgeon, and three 
officers, and "the conversation ranged from 
botany to politics, from the Established Church 
of England to the hatching of eggs by steam. 
I saw the maps being made of this coast, and 
was struck with the great accuracy of the shape 
of our present harbor, which I now know full 
well." 

On June 27 he records the discovery of a 
new species of bird, the Lincoln's sparrow: 
"We shot a new species of Finch, which I have 
named Fringilla lincolnii.'^ On July 4 he says: 
"I have drawn all day, and have finished the 

11 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

plate of the Fringilla lincolnii, to which I have 
put three plants of the country, all new to me 
and probably never before figured; to us they 
are very fitting for the purpose, as Lincoln 
gathered them." These plants are the pale 
laurel, the northern dwarf cornel, and the 
cloudberry, or bake-apple as it is called by 
the English-speaking people of Labrador, 
Newfoundland, and Cape Breton. Chicoutai 
is its Indian name and it is so called by the 
Acadians along the southern coast of the 
Labrador Peninsula. It is circumpolar in its 
distribution and is found in the northern parts 
of the Old World as well as in the New. It 
belongs to the raspberry family and resembles 
a large berry of that group; it is red when 
nearly ripe, but turns yellow when it is ready 
to eat. It is much esteemed by the natives, 
but its flavor, to one unaccustomed to it, is 
not attractive. It makes, however, an excel- 
lent preserve, although somewhat seedy withal. 
In the spring its two or three large leaves and 
single white flower are conspicuous in the moss, 
and in the summer its handsome fruit is very 
prominent. 

On the afternoon of June 28, following a 



AUDUBON'S LABRADOR TRIP 

week's delay due to easterly winds with rain 
and fog, a favorable westerly breeze sprang 
up, the explorers set sail, and the next morn- 
ing found themselves near islands on which 
murres, puffins, razor-billed auks, and cormo- 
rants were breeding by thousands. These is- 
lands are stated to be about fifty miles from 
Natashquan and were probably in the neigh- 
borhood of Old Romaine. From there the 
Ripley continued down the coast, and toward 
the end of the day came to anchor in the har- 
bor of Wapitagun. Audubon says, "but as 
before our would-be pilot could not recognize 
the land," and they found difficulty in enter- 
ing the harbor "on account of our pilot being 
an ignorant ass; twice did we see rocks under 
our vessel. The appearance of the country 
around is quite different from that near Ameri- 
can Harbor ; nothing in view here, as far as the 
eye can reach, but bare, high, rugged rocks, 
grand, indeed, but not a shrub a foot above 
the ground. The moss is shorter and more com- 
pact, the flowers are fewer, and every plant 
more diminutive. No matter which way you 
glance, the prospect is cold and forbidding; 
deep banks of snow appear here and there, 

13 



IN AUDUBON'S LABEADOR 

and yet I have found the Shore Lark (Alauda 
alpestris) in beautiful summer plumage." He 
is continually complaining of the cold — " The 
weather was so cold that it was painful for me 
to draw almost the whole day" • — and of the 
wet and storm and of the desolate character of 
the country, yet he thoroughly enjoyed it when 
the sun came forth and warmed his Southern 
blood. This is shown by the entry in his Jour- 
nal for July 2. "A beautiful day for Labra- 
dor. . . . All — all is wonderfully grand, wild 
■ — aye, and terrific. And yet how beautiful 
it is now, when one sees the wild bee, moving 
from one flower to another in search of food, 
which doubtless is as sweet to it as the es- 
sence of the magnolia is to those of favored 
Louisiana." 

The next day, however, "We had a regular 
stiff gale from the eastward the whole day, 
accompanied with rain and cold weather, and 
the water so rough that I could not go ashore 
to get plants to draw." His hands were full 
of work in this place, as water- and land- birds 
abounded and he was delighted at procuring 
some ptarmigan and young. On July 6 he 
says: "By dint of hard work and rising at 

14 



AUDUBON'S LABRADOR TRIP 

three, I have drawn a Colymbus septentriona- 
lis [red-throated loon] and a young one, and 
nearly finished a Ptarmigan; this afternoon, 
however, at half-past five, my fingers could 
no longer hold my pencil, and I was forced to 
abandon my work, and go ashore for exercise. 
The fact is that I am growing old too fast; 
alas ! I feel it • — and yet work I will, and may 
God grant me life to see the last plate of my 
mammoth work finished." Later in the Jour- 
nal, under date of August lo, he says: "I have 
been drawing so constantly, often seventeen 
hours a day, that the weariness of my body 
at night has been unprecedented, by such work 
at least. At times I felt as if my physical pow- 
ers would abandon me; my neck, my shoulders, 
and, more than all, my fingers, were almost 
useless through actual fatigue at drawing. . . . 
The young men think my fatigue is added to 
by the fact that I often work in wet clothes, 
but I have done that all my life with no ill 
effects. No! no! it is that I am no longer 
young." 

Until the publication in 191 7 of the impor- 
tant work on "Audubon the Naturalist," by 
Francis Hobart Herrick, there was a mystery 

15 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

about the date of Audubon's birth, which was 
generally recorded as occurring on May 5, 
^1780, with the extreme limits 1772 and 1783. 
Herrick, however, has shown by indisputable 
documentary evidence that the great naturalist 
was born at Les Cayes, Santo Domingo, on 
April 26, 1785. He was, therefore, only forty- 
eight years of age at the time of the Labrador 
expedition. The cause of his exhaustion, how- 
ever, was plainly his excessively long hours of 
sedentary work under difficult and depressing 
circumstances of cold, wet, and sea-sickness. 

The mosquitoes also added to his difficul- 
ties, for no means were used to keep them out 
of the cabin. He says: "The mosquitoes trou- 
ble me so much that in driving them away 
I bespatter my paper with ink, as thou seest, 
God bless thee. Good-night." Again: "The 
mosquitoes so annoyed me last night that I 
did not even close my eyes." And in another 
place he says: "The Caribou flies have driven 
the hunters on board; Tom Lincoln, who is 
especially attacked by them, was actually 
covered with blood, and looked as if he had 
had a gouging fight with some rough Ken- 
tuckians." 

16 



AUDUBON'S LABRADOR TRIP 

Although stormy weather is common on this 
coast, Audubon was certainly unfortunate in 
experiencing an unusually stormy season. Of 
the fifty-four days between June 17 and August 
II that were spent on the Labrador coast, he 
speaks of rain and fog and storm on at least 
twenty-five, and he had apparently only fif- 
teen days of fine weather. His Southern blood 
rebelled against the Northern cold and storm. 

Still another handicap was his "ignorant 
ass" of a pilot, who, not knowing the region, 
exposed them to no inconsiderable danger of 
shipwreck, on entering and leaving harbors, 
and who was obliged to sail for safety on the 
rough waters of the Gulf rather than in the 
calm and narrow waterways among the islands. 
It is probable that homesickness added to Au- 
dubon's troubles, as is shown by such records 
as, "John's violin notes carry my thoughts 
far, far from Labrador, I assure thee." 

It is a curious fact that in the Journal Au- 
dubon never once mentions his food,^ an item 
that is often dwelt upon with a great deal 
of either favorable or unfavorable feeling by 

^ In one of the "Episodes," however, he says they "were 
fortunate in having a capital cook, although he was a little too 
fond of the bottle." 

17 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

most travelers. He says, however, that his 
young companions "have yet energy to eat 
tremendously." In a letter ^ written to Mr. 
Ruthven Deane by Dr. William Ingalls in his 
ninetieth year occurs the following: "And 
permit me to say cornmeal bread made by a 

good cook with sea-birds' eggs is fit for 

' Yum- Yum ! ! Excuse me, I am nothing 



but a boy." This bears out my contention 
that the usual idea of the meaning of the 
phrase, "Whom the gods love die young," is 
incorrect. It really means that those whom 
the gods love die young even if they live to be 
a hundred. 

On July 13, taking advantage of a favorable 
wind, the Ripley sailed again easterly on the 
open sea, and on the next day in rough water 
managed by good luck to enter the harbor of 
"Little Macatine," and all were soon ashore 
climbing the hills. This is Hare Harbor in 
the island of Little Mecattina. "Nothing but 
rocks — barren rocks — wild as the wildest of 
the Apennines everywhere." True naturalist 
that he was, everything interested him. The 
raised beaches of pebbles he attributed to the 

* The Auk, vol. xxvii (1910), p. 48. 
18 



AUDUBON'S LABRADOR TRIP 

tremendous gales of the coast and to icebergs. 
"Plants blooming by millions, and at every 
step you tread on such as would be looked 
upon with pleasure in more temperate climes. 
I wish I were a better botanist that I might 
describe them as I do the birds." Again: 
"The captain brought me what he called an 
Esquimau codfish, which perhaps has never 
been described, and we have spirited him." 
His keenness of observation is well shown by 
the following: "This bird [a spruce partridge] 
was so very gray that she might almost have 
been pronounced a different species from those 
at Dennysville, Me., last autumn; but this 
difference is occasioned by its being born so 
much farther north ; the difference is no greater 
than in Tetrao umhellus [ruffed grouse] in 
Maine, and the same bird in western Pennsyl- 
vania." Both of these observations have since 
been confirmed and two separate races of each 
bird have been recognized by ornithologists. 

The country about this harbor was thor- 
oughly searched for bird life. On July i8 he 
says: "From the top of a high rock I had fine 
view of the most extensive and the dreariest 
wilderness I have ever beheld. It chilled the 

19 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

heart to gaze on these barren lands of Lab- 
rador. . . . The mosquitoes, many species of 
horse-fly, small bees, and black gnats filled the 
air; the frogs croaked; and yet the thermom- 
eter was not high, not above 55°. This is 
one of the wonders of this extraordinary coun- 
try." They found the deserted cabin of a 
sealer, and Audubon discovered that it "had 
been the abode of two French Canadians ; first, 
because their almanac, written with chalk on 
one of the logs, was in French; and next, the 
writing was in two very different styles." 
i. On July 21 they left Little Mecattina Island 
and in five hours reached "a harbor which 
has no name, for we have mistaken it for the 
right one, which lies two miles east of this; 
but it matters little, for the coast of Labra- 
dor is all alike comfortless, cold and foggy 
yet grand." This harbor, which he elsewhere 
speaks of as Bate de Portage, is now called Mut- 
ton Bay. Here he found Captain Bayfield, of 
the Gulnare, encamped on shore and enjoyed 
the treat of talking with men of education and 
refinement. 

The next day Audubon's party embarked 
in three boats and visited a harbor — Mecat- 

20 



AUDUBON'S LABRADOR TRIP 

tina Harbor — a mile to the eastward where 
the crew of a whaling schooner were engaged 
in trying out blubber, and they called on a 
French-Canadian seal-catcher who gave them 
much information about various fur-bearing 
animals. In his "Episode" on "The Squat- 
ters of Labrador" he refers to this man as 
Pierre Jean-Baptiste Michaux. The latter's 
cabin was in a sheltered nook where, to his 
surprise, Audubon found the atmosphere quite 
warm, vegetation luxuriant, and the winter 
wren, white-crowned, fox, and Lincoln's spar- 
rows, the Wilson's warbler, and horned lark in 
full song. 

On July 23 the party visited the seal estab- 
lishment at Sparr Point of Samuel Robertson, 
a Scotchman, who had lived there for twenty 
years. He was lord of the region, and well 
contented with his lot; his profits from seal 
oil and furs amounted the previous year to . 
£600. 

On July 23 they set sail from Bale de Por- 
tage, intending to call on Chevalier at St. 
Paul's River, but, on account of unfavorable 
weather^ were unable to do so. They found 
themselves that evening off Bonne Esperance; 

21 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

"but as our pilot knew as much of this harbor 
as he did of the others, which means nothing 
at all, our captain thought prudent to stand 
off and proceed to Bras d'Or," which they 
reached the following morning. Here the seal- 
fishing establishment of Mr. Jones was visited 
afterwards so interestingly described in the 
"Episode" already referred to, and much in- 
formation on the birds and beasts and people 
gathered. Here it was that Audubon at last 
succeeded in finding the nest of the horned lark, 
long sought in vain, and he makes a tantaliz- 
ing record of the now extinct pied or Labrador 
duck as follows: "The Pied Duck breeds here 
on the top of the low bushes, but the season is 
so far advanced we have not found its nest." 
At noon on August i they "were visited 
by an iceberg, which has been drifting within 
three miles of us, and is now grounded at the 
entrance of the bay ; it looks like a large man- 
of-war dressed in light green muslin, instead 
of canvas, and when the sun strikes it, it glit- 
ters with intense brilliancy." Two days later 
the Wizard, commanded by Captain Wilcomb, 
of Ipswich, which had anchored near, broke 
her stern chain in a gale, collided with the 



AUDUBON'S LABRADOR TRIP 

Ripley, and stove in their "beautiful and most 
comfortable gig." However, the vessels were 
soon parted without further damage. On this 
day, August 3, the Eskimo curlew, now al- 
most extinct, appeared from the north. "This 
species here takes the place of the Migratory 
Pigeon [alas, now entirely extinct] ; it has now 
arrived ; I have seen many hundreds this after- 
noon, and shot seven. They fly in compact 
bodies, with beautiful evolutions, covering a 
great extent of country ere they make choice 
of a spot on which to alight ; this is done where- 
ever a certain berry called the ' Curlew berry * 
proves to be abundant. Here they balance 
themselves, call, whistle, and of common ac- 
cord come to the ground, as the top of the 
country here must be called. They devour 
every berry, and if pursued squat in the man- 
ner of Partridges. A single shot starts the 
whole flock; off they fly, ramble overhead for 
a great distance ere they again alight. This 
rambling is caused by the scarcity of berries. 
This Is the same bird of which three specimens 
were sent to me by William Oakes, of Ipswich, 
M^ss." 

On August 10 the party visited Perroquet 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

Island, near Blanc Sablon, the breeding-place 
then as now of puffins or perroquets. 

In great spirits he enters in his Journal on 
the same date the following: "Who, now, will 
deny the existence of the Labrador Falcon? 
[Black or Labrador gyrfalcon.] ^ Yes, my Lucy, 
one more new species is on the list of the * Birds 
of America,' and may we have the comfort of 
seeing its beautiful figure multiplied by Hav- 
ell's engraver. This bird (both male and fe- 
male) was shot by John whilst on an excur- 
sion with all our party, and on the 6th inst., 
when I sat till after twelve o'clock that night 
to outline one of them to save daylight the 
next day to color it, as I have done hundreds 
of times before." While at Bradore, the party 
visited Blanc Sablon, and some of the young 
men walked as far east as Forteau, which he 
enters in his Journal as Port Eau. 

On August II they put to sea, — "Seldom 
in my life have I left a country with as little 
regret as I do this "; and two days later they 

^ In the original plates the black gyrfalcon, called ohsoletus 
by Gmelin in 1788, is figured, while in The Birds of America, 
although the details of the capture of the birds in Labrador 
are given, the bird^ is described and figured as the Iceland 
gyrfalcon. 

9A 



AUDUBON'S LABRADOR TRIP 

anchored at St. George's Bay, Newfoundland. 
Here "the temperature changed quite sud- 
denly, and this afternoon the weather was so 
mild tliat it was agreeable on deck, and con- 
genial even to a Southerner like myself." 
Here they explored and collected and disported 
themselves at a ball, where John Woodhouse 
Audubon played the violin till half-past two 
in the morning. After four days of sea-sick- 
ness they reached Nova Scotia and rejoiced 
mightily as they smelt the odor of new-mown 
hay and heard the music of the crickets. Leav- 
ing the schooner, they walked full of joy among 
familiar surroundings to Pictoii and put up at 
the " Royal Oak." In Pictou they saw much 
of Professor McCullough. Thence they went 
by coach to Halifax where, from walking about 
to see the town, "all have aching feet and 
leg-bones in consequence of walking on hard 
ground after tramping only on the softest, 
deepest mosses for two months." Leaving Hali- 
fax, they journeyed by coach to Windsor, saw 
the wonderful Bay of Fundy tide, and took the 
Maid of the Mist to Eastport. "Here we were 
kindly received by all our acquaintance; our 
trunks were not opened, and the new clothes 

25 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

paid ho duties; this ought to be the case with 
poor students of nature all over the world." A 
week later, on September 7, 1833, Audubon 
reached New York, "and, thank God, found all 
well." 

This arduous trip was well worth all its 
hardships. Audubon brought back seventy- 
three bird-skins, as well as a large collection 
of plants and of other natural-history objects. 
He observed in all some ninety-three different 
species of birds, and recorded much that was 
hitherto unknown. A new species, Lincoln's 
sparrow, was discovered and described, and 
twenty-three drawings of the birds were com- 
pleted or nearly completed. He worked hard 
and has been well rewarded. 



CHAPTER II 

TO THE STARTING-POINT 

INSTEAD of going by way of Eastport, 
Maine, as did Audubon, my companion and 
I took the night train to Montreal. We — 
Mr. Harold St. John, botanist, and myself, or- 
nithologist — became for the time being mem- 
bers of the staff of the Canadian Geological 
Survey, each in his own line to make studies 
and reports. With my friend botany was a 
profession; he had taught the subject at Har- 
vard College, and he was to become a per- 
manent worker in the Canadian Survey. In 
my own case the study of natural history in 
general and of ornithology in particular was 
merely a lifelong hobby. 

The steamship Cascapedia took us down the 
great river St. Lawrence the afternoon of 
June 24, 1 91 5, under the care of Captain 
Heam. He was an old friend of another trip 
and, as I sat next to him at table, I had the 
full benefit of his wise and witty sayings and 
sea-tales. We were speaking of Sable Island, 

27 



m AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

and the botanist was enthusiastic about a trip 
he had taken to that out-of-the-way spot, 
when the captain said, with much emphasis, 
"Any one who would go to Sable Island for 
pleasure would go to hell for pastime"; and 
added, "You fellows are all tarred with the 
same brush — you 're never happy unless you 

're in some d d wilderness." 

The next morning early we had a couple of 
hours ashore at Quebec, and, besides wander- 
ing about the old town and reveling in the 
wonderful view from the Terrace, we enjoyed 
an impressive service in the dimly lighted ca- 
thedral. Regular life on board the boat now 
began, and we found an interesting company, 
as is apt to be the case on out-of-the-way 
journeys. I particularly enjoyed long talks 
with Napoleon A. Comeau, the veteran nat- 
uralist of Godbout, an authority on the life- 
history of our salmon, and an ornithologist of 
no mean attainments. He gave me an account 
of his trip the previous summer to Hudson 
Bay, and of the birds he had found on the 
western side of the Labrador Peninsula. An- 
other of our passengers, who left us at Trinity, 
was a Scotchman who, morning, noon, and 



TO THE STARTING-POINT 

night, paraded the deck playing the bagpipes. 
At first disposed to laugh at the performance 
and to regard it as of a low order, I finally be- 
came much impressed with the variety and 
interesting character of the music, which he 
played with much artistic feeling and appro- 
priate steps. His pieces ranged from light to 
mournful, from jigs to pibrochs. Dr. Mc- 
Duff, the successor of the late Dr. Tremblay, 
of Esquimaux Point, was of our company, as 
was also Dr. West, who was to take Dr. Hare's 
place at the westernmost Grenfell mission at 
Harrington. 

The captain introduced a term new to me 
when I asked him what the men did at one of 
the small stopping-places. "They are mostly 
hot-rockers here," said he; and when pressed 
for an explanation, replied, "Oh, the men are 
too infernally lazy to fish, so they lie down on 
the hot rocks." I also heard him tell again the 
tale of the first captain under whom he served 
as mate. This man navigated by a demijohn 
of rum, whose depth he plumbed from time to 
time with a stick. At last a point was reached 
where the captain judged it would be well to 
take an observation by the sun. 



IN AUDUBON'S LABKADOR 

It was a beautiful afternoon when we en- 
tered the wonderful Bay of Seven Islands. 
They were having a good season at the whale 
factory, but no whales were to be seen and 
we were too far to windward to perceive the 
usual evidence of them. At Clark City Wharf 
— the port of the wood-pulp factory eleven 
miles distant in the forest — we landed one 
of the Clark brothers and listened to talk 
about the management of the men and pulp 
production. I also had the pleasure of hear- 
ing the songs of a Tennessee warbler, a white- 
throated sparrow, and a hermit thrush, while 
my companion filled his box with flowers. 

This bay is of great interest to the orni- 
thologist, as here brant collect in immense 
numbers in the spring preparatory to their long 
flight across the base of the Labrador Peninsula 
to James Bay. Unlike most water-birds, which 
skirt the coast in the migrations, they make 
this short cut across the land. While resting in 
the bay they feed on the eel-grass, which grows 
here in great profusion. Eel-grass also is a fa- 
vorite diet of the Canada goose, and it is called 
on the coast herbe outard, for the Canada goose 
is known here as r outard, a name used by 

30 



TO THE STARTING-POINT 

Champlain and other early explorers. The 
name outard signifies bustard, a very dijfferent 
bird, but, in the old French of Champlain and 
the modern Acadian it is applied to the wild 
goose. 

The Bay of Seven Islands is close to the 
western limit of the Labrador Peninsula. On 
modern maps one finds the name Labrador 
printed on a narrow strip along the eastern 
coast and the Straits of Belle Isle as far as 
Blanc Sablon. This is the part of the peninsula 
that belongs to Newfoundland. The northern 
part of the great peninsula is labeled Un- 
gava, and the southern part Saguenay County, 
Quebec, but these are political divisions whose 
boundaries are artificial and are even now 
uncertain and under dispute. The great nat- 
ural feature to which the term Labrador Pen- 
insula belongs — an area according to Low of 
some 511,000 square miles ■ — has certain boun- 
daries that are easily comprehended. On the 
north lie Hudson Straits, on the east the At- 
lantic Ocean, on the south the Straits of Belle 
Isle and the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and on the 
west James Bay and Hudson Bay. At various 
times the line marking off the neck of the pen- 

31 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

insula has been drawn from the foot of James 
Bay to the mouth of the Saguenay, to Pointe 
du Mont near Godbout and to a point where 
the fiftieth parallel of latitude strikes the coast 
a short distance to the west of the Bay of 
Seven Islands. The latter boundary, nearly 
six hundred miles long, is the one now ac- 
cepted. Aside from this one comparatively un- 
important artificial boundary, the Labrador 
Peninsula is a definite and striking natural 
feature on the earth's surface. 

The term "Labrador," one would think, 
might therefore be used for any part of the 
peninsula, but strictly speaking, it is often re- 
stricted to that part belonging to Newfound- 
land. This is often called "The Labrador." 
The inhabitants of the southern coast, how- 
ever, commonly speak of Canadian Labrador 
as well as of Newfoundland Labrador and these 
terms seem to be convenient and easily under- 
stood. They are used by the Canadian Geolog- 
ical Survey. The northern part of the penin- 
sula north of Hamilton Inlet, to the west of 
the coastal strip, should be known as Ungava 
Labrador. From a biological point of view it 
is a great convenience to use the term Labra- 



TO THE STARTING-POINT 

dor for the whole peninsula, and it can be done 
without fear of confusion if the qualifying 
terms Ungava, Newfoundland, and Canadian 
are used. The population of this huge penin- 
sula has been estimated to be fifteen thousand. 
This includes thirty-five hundred Indians and 
two thousand Eskimos. The interior is in- 
habited by the Indians alone; the whites and 
Eskimos live only on the coast. The population 
in summer is increased by about twenty-five 
thousand Newfoundland fishermen who visit 
the eastern and southern coasts. 

At the town of Seven Islands, which con- 
tains a Hudson's Bay Company's post, an 
Indian village, and the seat of the Bishop of 
the Catholic missions of the coast, we ran 
aground attempting to reach the newly built 
wharf. We backed out, anchored, and waited 
a couple of hours for a higher tide. One would 
have thought it was a band of emigrants that 
huddled together for shelter on the wharf at 
ten that night, but it was only a party of ladies 
and gentlemen and a charming baby going to 
a salmon-fishing camp on Trout River. Mr. 
William Kakas, well known on this coast as a 
fur-trader, also disembarked here. 

33 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

At Ellis Bay, Anticosti, on the fourth morn- 
ing of the voyage from Montreal, we landed 
the enterprising manager of lumbering inter- 
ests for M. Menier, the feudal lord of this 
great island. Some ten years before, this young 
man, a New Yorker, heard that the island of 
Anticosti, one hundred and forty miles long 
by thirty broad, was for sale, and tried to in- 
terest an American millionaire in it, but failed. 
Henri Menier, the chocolate king of France, 
heard of it and cabled the young man to meet 
him in Paris. The interview resulted in the 
purchase of the island and the establishment 
of the New Yorker as manager of lumbering 
interests, a position he has since held. With 
his family he spends his summers at Anticosti, 
his winters in New York. Henri Menier died 
and the younger brother, Gaston, was at the 
island in 1914 when the war broke out. He 
hurried back to France to find his chateau in 
the possession of the Germans. From our point 
at anchor we could see the storehouses, the 
manager's house, and the Menier mansion; 
this from a distance did not look particularly 
impressive until we were told it contained 
eighteen bathrooms. The manager, with his 



TO THE STAETING-POINT 

wife, four children, assistants, servants, and 
baggage, made up a picturesque company as 
they went ashore in a large ship's boat under 
sail. 

We were soon back on the Cote Nord and 
dropped anchor from time to time off familiar 
places,^ to be met by fishing-boats for the ex- 
change of passengers and commodities. Splen- 
did twenty-pound salmon were to be bought 
for fifty cents. Our conversation was of the 
coast and its interests and life. We rarely re- 
ferred to the war — it seemed to be only a 
memory and a bad dream, a thing of the past 
or of some other world from which we had 
severed our connection, as indeed we had. It 
was a refreshing relief. Mount St. John stood 
up dark blue and sharply cut in its long and 
irregular outline against a cloudless sky as we 
anchored that evening off the mouth of the 
St. John River. Near at hand lay the Wacouta, 
James J. Hill's white steam yacht, awaiting 
her owner at the salmon club. 

We arrived at Esquimaux Point late on the 
evening of June 2"], and found our pilot of 

^ See A Labrador Spring for description of this part of the 
coast. , 

35 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRA1X)R 

the trip, Captain A. Edmond Joncas, and his 
schooner the Sea Star. M. Johan Beetz, who 
had courteously invited me to pay him a visit 
at Piashte Bay, — now officially known as 
Bay Johan Beetz, — also came to meet us on 
the wharf. Although the botanist was hos- 
pitably included in the invitation, he decided 
to stay a day at Esquimaux Point to investi- 
gate the flora of that limestone region, and 
come on later in the Sea Star. 

The next morning found me embarked in 
the little mail schooner with M. Beetz en route 
for his house, of which I had such pleasant 
memories of six years before, when Mr. A. C. 
Bent and I passed a day there and w6re roy- 
ally entertained. M. Johan Beetz, a native of 
Brussels and a man of education, came to this 
coast twenty years ago for a summer's sport, 
was charmed by the place, spent the winter 
at Piashte Bay, married the young telegraph- 
operator of that tiny village, and, with the 
exception of trips with his family to Europe, 
has stayed there ever since. He is a pioneer 
in the black fox industry, and, when I was 
there six years ago, he had seven parks of these 
animals; now he has twenty-one. On the mail 

36 



TO THE ST.VRTING-rOINT 

schooner the flag of France flew at the fore- 
mast, that of England at the mainmast. Here, 
at our host's house, the flags of England and of 
Belgium were on the flagstaff. Hard, indeed, 
is it on those whose heartstrings are tied to 
Belgium! 

The family is a charming one. Of the master 
and his versatile nature I have already writ- 
ten in "A Labrador Spring." He is a delight- 
ful companion, full of fun, agile in mind, spirits, 
and body. His wife presided with great dig- 
nity, sweetness, and charm of manner over an in- 
teresting family of six, from Johan lejeune, aged 
sixteen, to Henri, aged eighteen months. Their 
pleasant voices, great politeness, and affection- 
ate regard for each other will always make this 
visit one of the pleasantest memories of my life. 
'" The house, one of the largest and most com- 
fortable along the whole length of coast, is 
built on the rocks beside a rushing salmon 
river whose music was always in our ears. In 
front is the bay with its rocky islands, behind, 
the lakelike expansion of the river backed by 
the hills and the spruce forest, while near at 
hand is the little village with its half-dozen 
houses and small chapel. 

37 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

We were not entirely cut off from the world 
here, for every day there arrived a carefully 
worded telegram about the war sent by the 
Government to all the stations on the coast. 
This message is in French as far as Harring- 
ton; and beyond this station it is translated 
— with some loss of sense — into English. 
The telegraph-line, a single wire built and 
maintained by the Government, struggles 
along this rocky coast as far as Chateau. Be- 
yond that to Battle Harbor and along the 
eastern coast communication is had by wire- 
less stations. The character of the war news 
was generally delphic and non-committal, but 
it occasionally was most encouraging, and we 
were all greatly cheered. 

The table was of the best, — delicious sal- 
mon, ■ — and he who has not eaten salmon fresh 
from the Northern rivers knows it not, — trout, 
capelin, lobster, seal-meat, canned rabbit, and, 
from the garden, cress, radishes, turnip-tops, 
chives, and dandelions. Seal-meat is a dark, 
almost black meat, but surprisingly tender and 
well flavored. There Is no suspicion of a fishy 
flavor, but rather a suggestion of mutton or 
venison. It is certainly an excellent meat, but 



TO THE STARTING-POINT 

like many other foods on the coast is not ap- 
preciated, for it is rarely eaten by man, but, 
after the skin and blubber are removed, it is 
thrown away or fed to the dogs. 

Capelin is a small fish about the size of a 
smelt and is delicious eating when fresh. It is 
also good when slightly salted and dried. In 
the latter state it is heated in the oven or on 
top of the stove and eaten whole. Canned 
rabbit is also to be mentioned with respect, for 
M. Beetz employed a most expert canner and 
thus enjoyed many foods out of season. His 
snow cave or cold-storage plant was also well 
stocked with game. 

Turnip-tops make excellent greens and are 
used when the young turnips are thinned. 
Later, at Natashquan, I was amused to find 
that the beet-tops were thrown away from 
ignorance of their value, although the turnip- 
tops were used. Here at Piashte Bay the veg- 
etables already mentioned grew, as well as 
rhubarb, carrots, onions, and green peas. M. 
Beetz's garden was neatly laid out in small 
plots of rich black, peaty loam brought from 
an island where sea-birds nested. It looked 
like the garden of an experiment station, as 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

the plots were so small, so regularly arranged, 
and so free from weeds. 

A white-crowned sparrow was nearly always 
to be seen in the garden gathering insects and 
grubs. Its family was securely hidden in a 
nest under some fir trees close to the house. 
His, or her, ■ — for the sexes are alike, — white 
crown with black stripes and neat slate-col- 
ored breast contrasted well with the black 
loam and green plants. This sparrow is cer- 
tainly a dooryard bird. On the eastern coast 
I always found it more plentiful about fishing- 
villages. It often sang from the sod-covered 
roofs of the houses and occasionally from 
the spars of the schooners in the rocky har- 
bors. 

On the spring migration I have seen it within 
a few feet of the doorsteps of my house at 
Ipswich. Its song was frequently ringing out 
— a sad and beautful one. The syllables my 
friend Dr. Allen and I invented on the eastern 
coast some years before to memorize it, seemed 
still to fit, although they give no idea of its 
wild beauty. These syllables are, more wet, 
wetter wet chezee. It is probable that Piashte 
Bay is about the extreme western breeding 

40 



TO THE STARTING-POINT 

limit on the southern coast of this bird of the 
Hudsonian and sub-Arctic zones. 

Fortunately for me the Sea Star was de- 
layed by calms and easterly winds, so I spent 
five delightful days at Bay Johan Beetz. Many 
hours were taken up with the study of the 
splendid collection of the birds of the neigh- 
borhood which M. Beetz had prepared, and I 
found in it no less than six species new to the 
list of birds previously recorded from the Lab- 
rador Peninsula. These were Kumlien's gull, 
European widgeon, lesser scaup duck, kildeer 
plover, red-winged blackbird, and eave swal- 
low. All were stragglers to this remote region, 
although Kumlien's gull must be of common 
occurrence on the eastern coast. 

One day we went in canoes up the river sal- 
mon-fishing, but although I succeeded in hook- 
ing a large fish, the temptation to follow up 
the bird-voices I could hear in the distance was 
too much for me. 

"Herkneth these blisful briddes how they singe 
■ Ful is mine herte of revel and solas." 

I left my host in his canoe to catch four twen- 
ty-pounders, while I was paddled up the beau- 
tiful stream to the old Indian portage at the 

41 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

falls. It was not that I loved fishing less, but 
birds more, and there have been so few who 
have studied the birds of this region. Warblers 
were common : black and white, Tennessee, yel- 
low, magnolia, black-poll, and yellow palm, a 
water-thrush, and a few redstarts. A yellow- 
bellied flycatcher gave his soft double whistle 
and an olive-sided flycatcher repeated vocif- 
erously, what-cheer. By the optimistic hunter 
this is rendered, three deer. Three years ago I 
had found the olive-sided flycatcher some fifty 
miles in the interior in the valley of the Nat- 
ashquan River. With this exception the only 
previous record for the Labrador Peninsula is 
that of Audubon, who found it there in 1833. 
The absence of the black-throated green war- 
bler interested me. This is a common bird with 
us in New England whose song. Hear me, St. 
Theresa, coming from the tops of pines is a 
familiar one to bird-lovers. In the spring mi- 
gration of 1906 I found this bird abundant 
along the southern Labrador coast, and in the 
summer of 1909 it was the most common war- 
bler in the spruce forests of the interior in the 
lower valley of the Natashquan River. Now 
on this trip in the height of the breeding- 




FALLS OF GRAND RIVER OF PIASHTE BAY 














NEST OF RED-BREASTED MERGANSER: LABRADOR-TEA 



TO THE STARTING-POINT 

season no black-throated green warblers were 
to be found at Piashte Bay or Natashquan, 
and it is evident that they pass through the 
coastal strip and breed only in the interior, 
which, although farther north, is warmer. The 
reverse is the case with the black-poll warbler, 
which breeds abundantly along the still colder, 
more Arctic coast to the eastward and is rare 
on the forested coast and in river valleys. 
Here at Piashte Bay it is not so common as on 
the coast to the eastward of Natashquan. The 
redstart, that bird with Belgian colors, black, 
red, and yellow, is more enterprising than the 
black-throated green warbler and nests on the 
coast. I have not, however, found it to the east- 
ward of this point, but here it was in full song. 
On the shore of a lakelike expansion of the 
river I startled a female red-breasted mergan- 
ser or sheldrake — the bec-scie of the habitants 
• — from a tangle of spruce and Labrador-tea. 
Here, about a dozen feet from the water and 
the same distance above it, was the nest, con- 
taining eight eggs, warm and well protected in 
a bed of grayish-black down. Near at hand 
swam a female black duck with her brood of 
downy young. 

43 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

The Indian portage path led up through the 
thick spruce forest, which reverberated with 
the roar of the unseen falls, to the rocky ledges 
above. Over these the water dashed down 
for more than a hundred feet into a dark for- 
est-girt pool, where the trees waved in the 
blasts and the smokelike spray rose in clouds. 
The great bounding waves seemed to poise in 
the air before the final plunge, and the roar 
was deafening. From a distance these foaming 
falls looked like a great patch of snow on the 
. hillside. 

On another occasion we sailed to some rocky 
islands and found the nests of great black- 
backed gulls with their large spotted eggs, the 
nests of herring gulls, of common terns, and of 
eiders. In one of the latter, containing six 
olive-green eider eggs, there were four addi- 
tional eggs laid by a black duck, smaller and 
of a drab color. All were smothered in the 
warm gray down plucked from the breast of 
the female eider whom we scared from the 
nest. As we rounded a point we came on sev- 
eral broods of eider ducklings with their moth- 
ers. One group of five dived repeatedly and 
scattered in all directions, while the mother 

44 



TO THE STARTING-POINT 

Uttered an alarmed rasping croak and flopped 
about on the surface like a wounded bird. 
Later she flew ahead of the boat to entice us 
away from her dusky, downy youngsters. 

Another time we were rowed to Grand Bay 
of Piashte Bay. It is a beautiful spot with 
rocky and wooded shores. A salmon-fisher had 
set his nets at the mouth of the river, and was 
living on his little schooner in a lovely cove 
well protected from the sea. The river flows 
around an island and forms two splendid falls, 
each about forty feet high, grand and impres- 
sive in the forest. 

The Sea Star arrived on July 2, and early 
the next morning we were off, taking our host 
with us as far as Natashquan, which we reached 
that evening. On the way we passed Queta- 
choo, Watcheeshoo, Pashashiboo, and more of 
the same kind. Natashquan, formerly called 
American Harbor, is at the mouth of the Little 
Natashquan River. It was the starting-point 
of Audubon's Labrador trip. 



CHAPTER III 

AMERICAN HARBOR, OR NATASHQUAN 

AT Natashquan we went at once to the 
house of the captain's brother, Richard 
Joncas, the head and whole of the "Labrador 
Fur Company," whose delightful hospitality 
and that of his wife I had enjoyed on my pre- 
vious trips. Here, like Audubon, we were de- 
layed by easterly winds and did not get away 
until July 7, but we both were well content, 
and explored the neighborhood as fully as 
possible for flowers and birds. The day after 
our arrival, July 4, we celebrated appro- 
priately by some firecrackers produced from 
the store, which, like those of the Hudson's 
Bay Company, contained everything that an 
Indian's heart might desire. The botanist and 
I, fully equipped for our work, then started 
for the "post," five miles away. This was for- 
merly the Hudson's Bay post, but it is now 
abandoned by the Company. Here, near the 
mouth of the Great Natashquan River, is situ- 
ated the annual summer encampment of the 

46 




AMERICAN HARBOR, OR NATASHQUAN 




EIDER DUCKS 

Audubon Plate 



AMERICAN HARBOR, OR NATASHQUAN 

Montagnais Indians. In Audubon's time the 
post was situated on the eastern side of the 
river and Audubon went there by boat. Car- 
tier found Indians here in 1534. 

We crossed the bridge recently completed 
over the mouth of the Little Natashquan River, 
and separated in the woods beyond, agreeing 
to meet for dinner on the beach about a mile 
from the post. Mosquitoes and flies, which at 
Piashte Bay were just beginning to come into 
their own, were now out in force and fully 
up to concert pitch. I am inclined to think 
that one is fortunate in entering a black-fly 
country in this manner before the vicious crea- 
tures reach their full powers, for the feeble 
bites early in the season are sufficient to pro- 
duce enough resistance to the poison so that 
later the swelling that ensues is not severe. It 
is a sort of prophylactic inoculation. 

For both of us this was an interesting walk. 
The wonderful flutelike song of the fox spar- 
row was ringing in our ears. It is a splendid 
song, that of a well-trained performer who is 
contented with his powers and does not try 
to vary his theme. It lacks, however, the feel- 
ing of the simple song of the white-throated 

47 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

sparrow and does not, of course, compare with 
the hymn of that serene and heavenly singer, 
the hermit thrush. Nor is the song as inter- 
esting as that of the Lincoln's sparrow. I have 
already quoted Audubon's record in his Jour- 
nal of his discovery of the Lincoln's sparrow 
at Natashquan. He named it after one of his 
young companions, Tom Lincoln. It is fairly 
common all along this coast and takes the 
place here of the song sparrow, which it closely 
resembles and of which it is a near relative. 
When one has thoroughly grasped the slight 
differences in the shade of color and in the 
markings, one can readily distinguish the 
two birds. The markings both on the breast 
and back are finer in Lincoln's sparrow, the 
color of the back is more olive and the front 
of the breast is washed with buff. Unlike the 
song sparrow, he is not social in his disposi- 
, tion, but very shy, and easily eludes the sight 
even when he is singing. The song is one of 
considerable beauty and great range of theme. 
At times I have recognized the general char- 
acter of the melody of the song sparrow, at 
times the jingling notes of the song of the win- 
ter wren, at times the impassioned warble of 

48 



AMERICAN HAEBOR, OR NATASHQUAN 

the purple finch. It generally has a loud ring- 
ing character like the music of silver sleigh- 
bells with the interpolation of fine trills and 
deep flutelike notes. One bird I especially 
loved at Piashte Bay often ended his song with 
Oh mieux, and occasionally followed it with an 
almost inaudible trill which sounded as if he 
were drawing in his breath after the supreme 
effort. It is an interesting and cheerful song, 
one which I always listened to with great 
pleasure. 

Audubon says in his Journal, "The note of 
this bird attracted me at once ; it was loud and 
sonorous." In his "Birds of America" he de- 
scribes his first encounter with this new spe- 
cies in a valley of beautiful verdure at Natash- 
quan: "But if the view of this favoured spot 
was pleasing to my eye, how much more to 
my ear were the sweet notes of this bird as 
they came thrilling on the sense, surpassing 
in vigour those of any American Finch with 
which I was acquainted, and forming a song 
which seemed a compound of those of the Ca- 
nary and Wood-lark of Europe. I immedi- 
ately shouted to my companions, who were not 
far distant. They came, and we all followed the 

49 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

songster as it flitted from one bush to another 
to evade our pursuit. No sooner would it 
alight than it renewed its song, but we found 
more wildness in this species than in any other 
inhabiting the same country, and it was with 
difficulty that we at last procured it. Chance 
placed my young companion, Thomas Lin- 
coln, in a situation where he saw it alight 
within shot, and with his usually unerring 
aim, he cut short its career. On seizing it, I 
found it to be a species which I had not pre- 
viously seen; and, supposing it to be new, I 
named it Tom's Finch, in honour of our friend 
Lincoln, who was a great favourite among us. 
Three cheers were given him, when, proud of 
the prize, I returned to the vessel to draw it, 
while my son and his companions continued 
to search for other specimens. Many were 
procured during our stay in that country." 

Another bird, whose song, far from beautiful, 
may be represented by the syllables je-let ren- 
dered in a harsh and jerky manner, was not 
uncommon. It has also a pleasing call-note, 
a double whistle so much like the common 
note of the wood pewee that I am convinced 
that when Audubon said in his Journal at 

50 



MIERICAN HARBOR, OR NATASHQUAN 

Natashquan, " I heard a Wood Pewee," he had 
in reality heard this bird. In fact, the yellow- 
bellied flycatcher, a bird of about the same 
size and appearance as the wood pewee, but 
with a faint tinge of yellow below, was not 
recognized till some years later by Baird, and 
the wood pewee is not known to extend so far 
north as Labrador. It is interesting to note 
that seven years after Audubon's visit to 
Labrador he received a modest letter from 
Baird, then a young man, describing this fly- 
catcher, and venturing to think it was a new 
species. With this thought Audubon at once 
acquiesced. 

I could delay for hours on the ornithologi- 
cal interest of this walk, and the reader may 
wish that the mosquitoes had got the better 
of me; I cannot, however, refrain from speak- 
ing of the Tennessee warbler, a bird appar- 
ently overlooked by Audubon in these regions. 
In his "Birds of America" he says of this 
species, "Of its migrations or place of breed- 
ing I know nothing." Its song was sufflciently 
common along the coast, but in former trips 
I had caught but fleeting visions of the bird, 
which, like Lincoln's sparrow, was more often 

51 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

heard than seen. One exception should be 
made to this statement, for two Tennessee 
warblers came on board the steamer in a fog 
when I was returning from one of my trips and 
here they could be watched from a few feet. I 
find from my notes that in the five days spent 
at Piashte Bay I did not once succeed in see- 
ing the bird. On one occasion I followed one 
about for over half an hour in a low spruce 
thicket, where it sang frequently and occa- 
sionally chipped within what seemed to be a 
few feet of me, but try as I would, I could not 
get even a momentary glimpse of it. Here at 
Natashquan the bird was really abundant, and 
several times it appeared in full sight when it 
sang. 

Its song is loud and clear, businesslike and 
unattractive. In its entirety it may be divided 
into three parts, each part a repetition of 
similar notes, and it may be expressed as fol- 
lows: sst, sst, sst, — twa, twa, twa,- — tsweet, 
tsweet, tsweet. The third part is sometimes 
omitted and the first part is rather faint and 
cannot be heard at a distance; the middle part 
is at times almost pleasing in its quality and 
is loud and clear. 

52 



AMERICAN HARBOR, OR NATASIIQUAN 

This was the warmest day we had experi- 
enced, and although it was only 54° F. in the 
morning and 62° at noon, yet in that part of 
the world it was considered sultry. After a 
bath in the sea, the remembrance of the flies 
and mosquitoes was happily washed away, 
and erbswurst, dried capelin, bread and cheese, 
and chocolate made us contented with the 
world. From time to time Indians, who had 
been to church at Natashquan and had after- 
wards traded at the store, came along the 
beach and passed us as we sat cross-legged 
around the fire. Usually they scudded shyly 
by like sandpipers, but occasionally they 
stopped to gaze on us, say bon jour, and vari- 
ous incomprehensible words. I felt that the 
usual state of affairs was reversed and that I 
and not the Indian was on exhibition. Later 
I suddenly came across a picturesque group 
of Indian girls picking last year's mountain 
cranberries. This berry is called in Newfound- 
land partridge-berry, but here is known as 
graine rouge or pomme de terre. The latter sin- 
gular name is rendered possible by the fact 
that potatoes are called palates in the Acadian 
dialect of this coast. The berry after the win- 

53 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

ter's cold is delicious eating, as it has lost 
much of its sharp acidity and it has a very 
pleasant taste. It is gathered in the fall in 
large quantities, keeps a long time in water, 
and can be bought in Quebec for twenty-five 
cents a gallon. In Newfoundland it has be- 
come such a valuable asset that a botanist 
was brought from Harvard a few years ago to 
study the possibilities of the berry. Besides 
its use for native consumption, it is sent largely 
to the Norwegians in the northwestern part 
of the United States. 

After dinner we visited the Indian encamp- 
ment at the mouth of the Great Natashquan 
River and were received by a rush and chorus 
of Indian dogs. These dogs are very different 
from the Eskimo dogs and are much smaller. 
They are long-haired with pointed noses and 
ears and curled-up tails, and are generally black 
and tan in color with white bellies and white 
tips to their tails. While the Eskimo dog is 
quite close to the timber wolf in origin, this In- 
dian dog is probably of smaller, Asiatic stock. 
I was on the lookout for a skull of this animal 
for a friend who wished to make a comparison 
with certain Asiatic specimens as well as with 

54 





^s 



AIMERICAN HARBOR, OR NATASHQUx\N 

Specimens found in Indian shell-heaps in New 
England, but was unsuccessful. There were 
thirty-three families of Indians here, domiciled 
for the most part in "A" tents. The old wig- 
wam and the oval tent formed of a framework 
of willow and spruce, both of which I found 
so common six years ago, seemed to be given 
up for this more practical but less picturesque 
white man's tent. 

These Indians are of the Montagnais or 
Mountaineer tribe of the great Algonquin fam- 
ily. All, as in Audubon's time, wore for the 
most part white man's clothing, but there was 
nevertheless a charm and picturesqueness 
about the dress and general bearing of these 
people. The women wore short, variously 
colored skirts, brilliant handkerchiefs about 
their necks, and caps of alternate stripes of 
black and red broadcloth with embroidered 
bands. These caps — their Indian name is 
acunishuan — were shaped like a French lib- 
erty-cap, and their peaks were drooped jaun- 
tily in front or over one ear. The women's black 
hair was tied in knots the size of hens' eggs 
in front of each ear. Hind, who warS in these 
parts in 1861, pictures, in his "Explorations 

55 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

in the Interior of the Labrador Peninsula," 
the same fashion of cap and hair. When one 
considers the expense, trouble, and heart- 
breaks that the white sisters of these Indian 
squaws have experienced since this date in 
following the innumerable changes of fashion 
as regards hair-dressing and head-gear, one 
cannot but admire the Indian's wisdom in 
retaining without change a fashion at once 
attractive and sensible. 

All the women wore on their breasts crosses 
or crucifixes, many of them of polished silver 
of considerable beauty and value. Both men 
and women wore rainbow-colored woolen 
stockings, knit by the white women of the 
coast, and low moccasins or tall sealskin boots. 
White canvas jackets were generally adopted 
by the men, who often wore their straight 
black hair cropped below their ears. The young 
of both sexes were fine-looking, with dark olive-, 
brown skins and ruddy cheeks ; their eyes were 
black and sparkling. Their features were 
finely cut, their hands and feet small, their 
frames lithe and active. Some of the girls 
possessed considerable beauty. The older peo- 
ple, from whom the glow of youth had passed, 

56 



AMERICAN HARBOR, OR NATASHQUAN 

were dark and wrinkled and not so attrac- 
tive. 

The Indians usually spend the whole win- 
ter, from the latter part of August till May, 
hunting in the interior. They migrate up and 
down the great rivers and by well-trodden por- 
tage paths. The winter before many had to come 
out early on account of the scarcity of game. 
In the summer months they trade their furs 
for necessaries and luxuries, attend to their 
religious duties at the Catholic missions, and 
spread along the coast feasting on sea-birds and 
their eggs. 

On our way back we noticed near the beach 
the pale blue-green leaves of the lungwort 
just appearing. This plant makes mats of foli- 
age close to the sand and bears pink, chang- 
ing to sky-blue, flower-bells. It is called on 
this coast vie toujours, and with it is connected 
a pleasing bit of folk-lore. It appears that it is 
a common habit for a young girl to take two 
branches of this plant and pin them by the 
middle perpendicularly against the wall. As 
they wilt, they bend either towards or away 
from each other. If the former, the young man 
will marry her; otherwise not. The captain, 

57 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

who gave us this information, admitted that 
in passing through a room he had often given 
the boughs a sHght twist to aid fate. 

That evening, while I was skinning a bird 
surrounded by all the party at Richard Jon- 
cas's house, there came a sharp knock at the 
door. The captain's son Paul cried, "Entrez," 
and went out to the kitchen to return with a 
telegram — the daily news of the war. M. 
Beetz opened the envelope and his face fell. 
He then read it aloud. It began, " Nouvelles 
trhs serieuses aujourd'hui. Les Etats Unis ont 
declare la guerre d V Allemagne,'" and went on 
to say that the harbor of New York was block- 
aded by German submarines that had already 
sunk eight steamers; that an uprising of Ger- 
mans in Chicago and other cities was immi- 
nent, and so on. I kept on skinning the bird, 
but did a good deal of thinking, and finally 
said, "I suppose I had better go back by the 
next steamer." At this they all burst out 
laughing and said it was a fake. The relief 
was great, and I gave vent to my feelings by 
pursuing the prime conspirator with an up- 
lifted chair. M. Beetz was in his element; he 
is famous for his practical jokes, and this one 

58 



MIERICiVN HARBOR, OR NATASIIQUAN 

will undoubtedly be told with much gusto 
along the coast for years. One of his jokes is 
to unscrew the top of the salt-cellar at his 
table and the unsuspecting guest gets a large 
supply of salt. It is said that shy individuals 
have eaten their briny soup rather than call 
attention to their unexpected awkwardness. 
A fisherman, dining with him one day, was 
passed a plate containing pieces of cheese; he 
took the plate. His host then had cream and 
then some jelly passed him, all of which he 
spread on the cheese, thinking it was au fait, 
and, with a fisherman's appetite, he ate it all. 
The next day we all went to a beautiful 
rocky, spruce-covered island at Watchechu, 
some twelve miles distant. This Richard Jon- 
cas wished to buy through his brother, the 
captain, who, besides being game warden for 
the entire southern coast as far as Blanc Sa- 
blon, is also Crown lands agent. These islands 
can generally be bought for five dollars an 
acre. M. Beetz showed his proclivity for prac- 
tical jokes by putting a fish in one of Richard's 
rubber boots, and he led me to think we were 
striking rocks when we were going through 
a narrow place between islands by suddenly 

59 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

jumping up and down in the stern of the boat. 
It was an interesting island, and we found 
eiders and great black-backed gulls breeding 
there. Paul, out of kindness to the botan- 
ist, brought him a branch of Labrador-tea, a 
plant which grows in profusion everywhere. 
Paul had never really looked at it before, and 
was struck with the beauty of its flower-clus- 
ters and its long narrow leaves with rusty 
woolly lower surfaces. He assured me — in- 
credible as it may seem — that he had never 
seen this flower before and thought, as he 
picked it, that it was something unusual. It 
was a marked illustration of a common and 
well-known fact that most of us have eyes and 
do not see. A still more striking instance is 
worth narrating here. A college friend of mine 
who had lived since graduation on Cape Cod, 
wrote me that a book I had sent him "recalled 
an odd illustration of observation and its lack. 
I was asked to secure for an Amherst Agricul- 
tural Professor some beach peas. I had never 
heard the name, but I remembered that when 
a boy I had seen something at a certain place 
in Woods Hole, which must have been the 
desired plant. The next day I ran across the 

60 



AMERIC.\N HiUlBOR, OR NATASHQUAN 

same plant at Truro, and later found it in 
profusion on my own beach. Now I must 
have been walking all over it every year, and 
the only time I had really seen it was over 
forty years ago." My friend devoted himself 
to the classics in college. 

That afternoon I followed Audubon's steps 
up the bank of the Little Natashquan River 
to the falls. In the lower part of its course 
there are brackish marshes of small extent. 
I cannot call them salt marshes, for they lack 
the characteristics of these common features 
of the New England coast. Although a num- 
ber of salt-marsh grasses grew there, — no- 
ticeably a form related to our black-grass, — 
silver-weed and even the blue iris and other 
plants of brackish regions pushed their way 
almost to the water's edge. In fact I have never 
found any true salt marshes on the Labrador 
coast, and do not believe that salt marshes of 
any size can exist, except on a slowly sinking 
coastline. In Massachusetts, where there are 
good reasons to believe the coast has been 
sinking at the rate of one or two feet a cen- 
tury, extensive salt marshes abound. These 
build up at the same rate so. that their rela- 

61 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

tion to the sea-level remains always the same. 
Where the land is rising, as it is in Labrador, 
the formation of salt marshes is impossible, 
because the plants of the various zones of the 
salt marshes are very sensitive to conditions, 
and cannot maintain them as they do where 
the land is sinking at the same rate that the 
marsh is building up. In other words, the 
relation of the salt marsh to sea-level is al- 
ways the same on a slowly sinking coast, but 
changes on a rising coast to such an extent 
that continued salt-marsh growth is impossi- 
ble. If the position of the lands were stable, 
■ — neither rising nor sinking, — the building- 
up of the salt marsh would gradually lead to 
a stealing-down of land vegetation and its 
own almost complete obliteration. In a word, 
then, the presence of extensive salt marshes 
would always indicate a coast of slow subsid- 
ence.^ 

The evidence of the rising of the land above 
the water is very marked here on the Labrador 
Peninsula. In places, as we shall see later in 
this narrative, one may find two or more sea 

^ For a discussion of this subject, see my Sand Dunes and 
Salt Marshes, pp. 206-28. 

62 



MIERICVN HARBOR, OR NATASHQUAN 

beaches of rounded pebbles elevated from 
fifty to two hundred feet above the sea and 
looking almost as fresh as if just left by the 
tide. Fish-stages built fifty years ago on the 
eastern coast are in places now barely acces- 
sible from the water in boats. Mr. Comeau told 
me of finding the remains of an old whale or 
seal establishment on an inlet so far from the 
salt water that he could not approach it even 
in a canoe. On the southern coast in sandy 
regions there are banks of marine sands cut 
by rivers many miles inland. At the mouth 
of the Great Natashquan River are low sand- 
clifis eight or ten feet high. Some seventy- 
five miles inland I found cliffs of the same 
marine sand over one hundred and fifty feet 
high — the cliffs known by the Indians as 
Tishkatawaka, or "cut up straight." Back of 
the beach at Natashquan are parallel ridges 
which represent ancient shore-lines. Similar 
sand-ridges occur miles inland and are elevated 
high above the sea. 

The harbor of Natashquan in Audubon's 
day, although shallow in places, was doubtless 
deeper than it is now. Captain Joncas's father, 
who came to the coast as a trader with the 

63 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

Indians in 1852, used to sail close to the shore 
in a schooner where now are rocks and sand- 
bars, and but a few feet of water except at 
the highest tides. Shifting sandbars of course 
explain part but not all of this change of level. 
The bones of a large whale were found near 
where the church stands, in marine sand 
twenty or thirty feet above the highest tides. 
M. Beetz showed me the tooth of a sperm 
whale that he had found as he stooped down 
to drink on the shore of a small lake fifty miles 
back in the bog. 

So much for this subject of land-levels and 
salt marshes. It is a long digression but an 
interesting subject, and it occupied much of 
my thoughts as I walked along the shores 
of the Little Natashquan. My ears and eyes 
were open for the birds, however, and I heard 
and saw many, but none new or of special 
interest. The toads were still trilling their 
spring song this fifth day of July. 

Arrived at the falls, I climbed to a high rock 
and sat down in the refreshing breeze relieved 
of the flies and mosquitoes. It is indeed a wild 
country. To the east stretched a flat coastal 
plain, as far as the eye could see clothed with 

64 



AMERICAN HARBOR, OR NATASHQUAN 

dark spruces and firs and terminated by a 
horizon of fog. To the north were bogs, rocky 
hummocks, small lakes and pools and patches 
of stunted forest, relieved here and there by 
ridges covered with white reindeer moss. Be- 
yond lay the long low range of mountains 
which stretches all along the coast, the ancient 
Laurentian Mountains, the true "Everlasting 
Hills." The roar of the falls borne to my ears 
with varying intensity by the blasts of wind, 
the complaining notes of great black-backed 
gulls soaring overhead, served but to intensify 
the wildness of the scene. At my feet the red 
granitic rock was almost concealed by lichens, 
black, white, green, yellow, and gray, that are 
slowly disintegrating the hard surface and ren- 
dering it fit for more highly organized plant- 
life that is to follow. Around me were tufts of 
cotton-grass, mats of curlew-berry, mountain 
cranberry, low spreading pale laurel, firs, 
spruces, birches, and larches, all prostrate. 
Where the trees had tried to rise a few inches, 
they were blasted by the storms and their 
twisted and distorted branches stood naked to 
the air. 

To the south, smiling in the sunlight, lay 
65 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

the little town of Natashquan. The church and 
presbytery, in the thicket of white spruces, 
with the long straight walk through the trees 
on a raised sand-beach, the bridge newly built 
over the river, the few scattered houses of the 
inhabitants, the low, rocky islands, the blue 
water, the fleet of little fishing-vessels — all 
of these formed for me a familiar picture. 

We expected to be off early on the 6th, but 
were delayed by an easterly storm. The steam- 
ship Laurentian, Captain Boucher, — my old 
friend of the steamship Natashquan, — had 
come in with difficulty the night previous and 
had remained most of the day before ven- 
turing forth. The old steamer Natashquan, of 
La Ligne Internationale, that used to ply along 
this coast has gone to her last berth. Three 
times I risked my life by taking passage on 
her, yet I look upon her demise with fond re- 
grets. She reminded me of the Bridget, in 
Van Dyke's poem "Gran' Boule," that ran 
"clear down to the Esquimault Point and 
back," — 

" * Dose engine one leetl' bit cranky, — too ole, you see, — ■ 
She roll and peetch in de wave. But I lak 'er pretty 
well;'" — 

66 



MIERICiVN HARBOR, OR NATASIIQUAN 

and I suspect that he wrote the poem after a 
trip in the Natashquan. It was an open secret 
that parts of her engine were wired together, 
that her iron shell was so old and weak that 
cement had been poured in to strengthen her 
feeble frame, and that insurance companies 
had long refused to carry her on their- books. 
On the latter account, if for no other reason, 
Captain Boucher navigated with great cau- 
tion, avoided the paths of other steamers, and, 
in thick weather, anchored at night. In low- 
lying fogs by day he himself climbed to the 
masthead and eagerly peered over the mists. 
I retain a vivid picture of the little captain 
in carpet-slippers holding to the rigging with 
one hand, a chart in the other, while he de- 
livered from time to time his clear-cut orders 
in French. 

On the Natashquan one could forage in the 
pantry and always find hot cafe-au-lait ; but I 
especially enjoyed a luxury which was shared 
by only one other passenger, a pet beaver. 
This was a bathtub from whose tap flowed 
only the cold salt water of the Gulf. Each of 
us took a plunge in it daily and we never had 
to wait for any one else. 

67 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

There was still plenty to see at Natashquan, 
however, and I took a long walk, chiefly in 
stunted spruces and in the bog — the barrens 
or tundras of Labrador — which occupies so 
much of the country in the sub-Arctic and Arc- 
tic zones. Audubon says in his Journal: "To 
tread over the spongy moss of Labrador is a 
task beyond conception until tried; at every 
step the foot sinks in a deep, soft cushion which 
closes over it, and it requires a good deal of 
exertion to pull it up again. Where this moss 
happens to be over a marsh, then you sink 
a couple of feet deep every step you take; to 
reach bare rock is delightful, and quite a re- 
lief." In another place he says: "We crossed a 
savannah of many miles in extent; in many 
places the soil seemed to wave under us, and 
we expected at each step to go through the 
superficial moss carpet up to our middles in 
the mire; so wet and so spongy was it that 
I think I never labored so hard iit a walk of 
the same extent." These descriptions are very 
accurate. I should compare the labor to that 
of walking in deep wet snow. I took the tem- 
perature in the shade of an island of scrubby 
spruce in one of these extensive tundras, and 

68 



AMERICiVN HARBOR, OR NATASHQUAN 

although my own feelings and amount of per- 
spiration suggested at least 80°, I found it to 
be only 58°. In walking over the wetter part 
of these plains one chooses with care the more 
solid-looking places. I have often been re- 
minded of the juvenile sport of "running 
tittledies" over weak ice. One of Audubon's 
young men was once mired to his armpits and 
had to be pulled out, but he must have been 
careless or perhaps over-venturesome in re- 
trieving a bird. Using due care and sufficient 
agility one need have no fear of trouble in 
these bogs. 

" Heavy the way over Gangle bogs, 
God keep him who has to tread it!" 

The vegetation of the bogs consists in large 
part of sphagnum and other mosses, of rein- 
deer lichen, cotton-grass, sundew, pitcher-plant, 
bake-apple, pale laurel, Labrador- tea, sweet- 
gale, leatherleaf , and dwarf black spruces, firs, 
and larches. 

As I had promised to collect spiders for my 
friend Mr. J. H. Emerton, an authority in 
that branch of natural history, I always went 
provided with bottles of alcohol. Spider-hunt- 
ing in this region is rather trying work, for 

69 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

near the ground one is simply overwhelmed 
with black flies. My gun is laid down, my 
glasses adjusted; then, at the critical moment 
when both hands are occupied with the bottle 
and the pursuit of the agile spider, my glasses 
fall from my nose, slippery with "fly-dope" and 
perspiration, and the flies become unendurable. 
Sometimes I spread a large bundle handker- 
chief on the ground and beat the spruce bushes 
so that the spiders fell on the handkerchief. 
A knowledge of the distribution of spiders 
helps to solve some unexpected problems, and 
the work was well worth while. 

That afternoon I visited my friends P^re 
Garnier and Pere Gallix, and found them 
standing outside the church looking like a 
picture from Parkman. Dressed in their long 
black robes, each carrying a canoe-paddle and 
an axe, they looked as if they were about to 
plunge into the wilderness to convert the In- 
dians. One of their axes was shaped like an 
Indian tomahawk, — a model that the Hud- 
son's Bay Company has made for many years. 
Their mission, however, was merely a short trip 
up the Little Natashquan River in order to cut 
birch branches for the petits pois in their garden. 

70 



AMERICAN HARBOR, OR NATASHQUAN 

I gladly accepted their invitation to go with 
them, and we three, with a great Dane dog, 
their faithful companion and beast of burden, 
were soon sailing and paddling up the river 
in a canoe. While they tied up their heads 
with great handkerchiefs to keep off the flies, 
and triced up their gowns to enter the scrubby 
forest to cut birch boughs, I took a bath at 
their favorite bathing-place of smooth rocks. 
On the way back we inspected a small potato- 
field they had made with infinite care on the 
other side of the river, as well as an area they 
had fertilized and seeded to grass, which they 
afterwards intended to cut for their cow. 

Their garden near the church was sur- 
rounded by a neat fence of small spruce sticks, 
and contained spinach, peas, cress, beets, tur- 
nips, parsnips, dock, chives, rhubarb, and 
potatoes, the last-named just peeping above 
the ground, but favored in these regions by a 
freedom from potato-beetles. Their henhouse 
was planned and built by themselves with the 
utmost neatness and care. They formerly 
owned a horse, the first and last ever seen in 
Natashquan. It was old when it came here 
thirteen or fourteen years ago, and was care- 

71 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

fully tended by the priests, who respected its 
infirmities, used it occasionally in farming 
operations, and, in a springless wagon, on rare 
occasions made the journey with it of five 
miles to the post at the mouth of the Great 
Natashquan River. At last it became too in- 
firm to work, and for several years it was 
maintained in idleness by the bounty of the 
Church until its demise, when its body served 
as food for M. Beetz's foxes. 

Supper at the Presbytery was a very pleas- 
ant affair from all points of view. I learned 
much of the history of the little hamlet. There 
was a trading-post on the farther side of the 
big river for many years, but it was moved to 
the right bank of the river in 1858. The first 
settler at American Harbor was Paul Vignot, 
an Acadian who came here from the Magda- 
lens in 1855. His two sons, Alfred and Charles, 
still live here. I have met them both. The 
church was built in i860. About forty years 
ago the name American Harbor was dropped 
and the term Natashquan, or Nataskouan as 
it used to be spelled, was retained. Our con- 
versation ranged from the history of the place 
and the prospects of the people to Kant, evo- 

72 



AMERICAN HARBOR, OR NATASHQUAN 

lutlon, and the war. My friends felt that as 
a result of this horrible war there would be a 
great spiritual awakening and that they could 
freely return to France. 

They are fine men, these priests. They be- 
long to the Eudist Brotherhood, founded by 
Jean Eudes, and, with the expulsion of religious 
orders from France in 1903, they came to this 
country and took charge of the missions along 
the Canadian Labrador coast. Their bishop, 
Monseigneur Blanche, whom I had the great 
pleasure of meeting in 1912, bears the title of 
** Eveque titulaire de Sicca, Vicaire apostolique 
du Golf Saint-Laurent." 



CHAPTER IV 

GRAND ROMAINE AND OLD ROMAINE 

ON July 7 we were at last favored with a 
fair wind, and at 3 a.m. set sail in the 
Sea Star to explore the coast before us. 

" Embark with me, while I new tracts explore, 
With flying sails and breezes from the shore. 

But steer my vessel with a steady hand, 
And coast along the shore in sight of land." 

The Sea Star was much smaller than its 
distinguished predecessor, the Ripley, for she 
was but seventeen tons burden and forty feet 
long, while Audubon's vessel was one hundred 
and six tons burden and probably over a hun- 
dred feet long. The Ripley was what is called 
a topsail schooner with yards and square top- 
sails. The Sea Star, when carrying full sail, 
had, besides her main and fore sails, a jib and 
flying jib, gaff topsail and main staysail. She 
was painted green with white trimmings. The 
cabin was six by eight feet, and high enough 
to permit a man to stand erect. It contained 
two bunks so closed in that the apertures 

74 



GRxVND ROMAINE AND OLD ROMAINE 

through which the occupant had to struggle 
in and out were only forty-one by sixteen 
inches, — • a state of affairs which suggested 
partial asphyxiation and a coffin. A sea-chest 
and a small iron stove occupied much of the 
floor space, while shelves, cupboards, hanging 
lamps, clothes, guns, and other paraphernalia 
filled in all available spaces. Forward two 
men slept in the galley, where the cooking 
was done and where we ate our meals. A large 
shelf near the stove was given up to me for 
my boxes of bird-skins, which here dried well. 
Many of Audubon's were ruined by the damp. 
The hold behind the galley contained things 
innumerable, and here, out of the wind, often 
with the hatch down, the botanist arranged 
his specimens and kept his presses and trunks. 
The deck, not taken up by galley and cabin- 
house, was fairly filled with water-tanks, spare 
rigging, driftwood to be cut up for the stove, 
and, during pleasant weather, by the bulky 
drying-cases of the botanist. On the starboard 
side of the deck forward, balsam boughs were 
spread, and here we arranged sleeping-bags 
at night. My home-made sleeping-bag proved 
very satisfactory. The outer bag was made of 

75 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

balloon silk, its waterproof qualities improved 
by a filler, with the addition of a little oil 
paint; a flap extended over my head in the 
baker-tent fashion, held in place by small guy- 
ropes; cheese-cloth hung from the borders to 
keep out insects. It is true that I found one 
morning a dozen aldermanic-looking mosqui- 
toes inside the canopy, but as a rule they were 
kept outside. The inner bag was made of 
lamb's-wool wadding with a covering of gray 
flannel and a lining of sateen. The outer bag 
weighed two and a half pounds, the inner, 
three and a half pounds, and both could be 
compressed into so small a space as to occupy 
less than half of a rucksack. As compared with 
the ordinary bulky and heavy sleeping-bag 
it was certainly preferable, but in heavy rain- 
storms we were driven to the shelter of the 
cabin. 

There was no bathtub on board, but what 
could be finer than a plunge overboard or a 
pail of sea-water poured on head and shoulders 
by one of the men, who shuddered with hor- 
ror at our extraordinary temerity. These two 
men were fine fellows. Guillaume (pronounced 
Eel-yam) J with buff -colored shirt with green 

76 




THE SEA STAR 




CAPTAIN A. EDMOND JONCAS 



GRAND ROMAINE AND OLD ROMAINE 

trimmings, a cocked hat, and drooping mus- 
taches, was famiUarly known by us as the 
Pirate. He was always longing to shoot some- 
thing and had to be restrained; yet he had a 
pleasant voice and a habit of singing softly 
to himself old French songs. The cook, Ernest 
by name, wore a pale pea-green shirt and had 
most obliging ways. He was a man-of-all- 
work, ready at any moment, day or night, and 
above all an excellent cook. His bread was of 
the best, his pancakes — crepes — of the light- 
est, and the very thought of his patties and 
confitures makes my mouth water. The cap- 
tain remarked that whenever Ernest was up 
to his elbows in bread-making he was sure to 
be needed on deck to shift sail. It was hard 
luck for Ernest, but he always took it as a joke, 
and I never noticed any ill results in the bread. 
Of the captain, A. Edmond Joncas, I speak in 
terms of the highest respect. It grieves me to 
think that Audubon, that great and good man, 
should have had his Labrador trip so nearly 
spoiled by the "ass of a pilot" when he should 
have had a man like our captain. The Joncas 
family came from La Gascogne, France, to 
the New World in 1699, and settled at St. 

77 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

Thomas near Quebec, but the men have al- 
ways followed the sea. One of the captain's 
earliest recollections is of a trip at the age of 
five along the Labrador coast in his father's 
trading-schooner. At Natashquan dogs were 
hitched to a komatic for his benefit, and he en- 
joyed dog-sledging over the moss in summer. 
At the age of twenty-one he sailed before the 
mast to India, and since he was twenty- three 
he has commanded a schooner on the Canadian 
Labrador coast. He therefore knows this coast 
most intimately, • — every nook and corner, 
every island and reef, in a way that no chart 
reveals. The best chart is misleading, for is- 
lands half a mile long, not to speak of rocks 
and reefs, are often entirely omitted. In fact all 
modern charts are based on the survey made 
by Captain Bayfield, of the Gulnare, who was 
at work on the coast in Audubon's day. Al- 
though fairly accurate, these charts give but an 
imperfect idea of the number and size of the 
islands and of the intricacies of the coast. The 
maps recently published by the Department 
of Lands and Forests of Quebec, which, how- 
ever, do not attempt to give the depths of the 
water as do charts for navigators, are a lit- 

78 



GRAND ROMAINE AND OLD ROMAINE 

tie more satisfactory. The captain, however, 
never used a chart in navigating these waters, 
as his knowledge, supplemented occasionally 
by the use of the lead, was so much more 
valuable. I once measured the first fathom 
of the captain's plumb-line, and found it to 
be ten instead of six feet long, and I noticed 
that the cautious William would sing out 
"Trois bras" whenever this line indicated 
three and a half and even four fathoms. When 
one considers that there are probably two 
thousand islands on this strip of Audubon's 
Labrador, it is evident that a pilot with a con- 
genital and instinctive knowledge of the coast 
is highly desirable. 

Not only was our captain familiar with the 
topography, but he was also familiar with the 
human population of the coast, • — he knew 
every one by name and their fathers and 
mothers before them. He said it was not 
uncommon for a man to come out to his 
schooner in order to learn from the captain 
his own age. All the names of Labradorians 
mentioned by Audubon in his Journal were 
familiar to the captain. The descendants of 
most of them were still living on the coast. He 

79 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

read the Journal, which I had brought with 
me, with the greatest of interest, and was able 
from the descriptions to identify the harbors 
where the Ripley cast anchor. 

The captain was also familiar with the sea- 
bird population and was able to take me to 
interesting ornithological regions. With all 
this he had a pleasing personality, one which 
at once inspired confidence and affection. I 
was indeed fortunate in my pilot — far more 
fortunate than Audubon. 

We had a long course ahead of us, over 
thirty miles unprotected by islands from the 
sweep of the Gulf, the longest unprotected 
strip along the whole Canadian Labrador 
coast east of Mingan. Five miles brought us 
to the Great Natashquan River, which has two 
mouths separated by a large island ; the eastern 
mouth is much larger than the western, with 
which I was well acquainted. Both pour great 
volumes of dark-brown water far out into the 
sea, whose color, deep green, forms with the 
river water a great contrast. At English Point, 
a short way beyond the western mouth, is a 
lighthouse recently built. It is the only one 
between St. Mary's Island on the east and the 

80 



GRAND ROMAINE AND OLD ROMAINE 

Perroquets on the west. We sailed by a long 
stretch of sandy shore, backed here and there 
with a strip of pale-green beachgrass on sandy 
dunes. Back of that was the dark spruce for- 
est. In places the sand-banks were cut away 
in cliffs. The low range of mountains was so 
distant at this point that we could see only 
the highest peaks. It was a desolate shore, 
harborless and unprotected, low and unin- 
teresting. From the deck of our little schooner 
it was every now and then entirely swallowed 
up as we descended into the hollow of the waves. 
Twenty-two miles from Natashquan we 
passed Kegashka, a small hamlet of three or 
four houses at the mouth of the river of that 
name. Here is a good harbor "secure against 
the thirty-two winds indicated on the com- 
pass" according to the Abbe Huard,^ but dif- 
ficult to enter. It was to this place in 1854, 
a year before the settlement of Natashquan, 
that the first group of Acadians came from 
the Magdalens. I do not admire their choice. 
The principal man there now is Jim Forman, 
salmon-fisher. 

^ Labrador et Anticosti, par I'Abbe V.-A. Huard, A.M. 
(Montreal et Paris, 1897.) 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

Rocky points now began to appear along 
the shore, gray and red granitic rocks, ribs 
from the backbone of the Labrador Peninsula. 
Against these the waves sent up great masses 
of white spray. Twelve miles farther west is 
Musquarro. Here are a small Indian mission 
church and one or two houses. In June this 
is the great gathering-point of the Montagnais 
Indians for their annual religious rites, and a 
priest comes there to meet them; in 1909 I 
had seen the Indians leaving Natashquan for 
this purpose. Gradually the land behind be- 
came higher and low islands appeared. At 
Washsheecootai there is one house on the 
point, that of a salmon-fisherman, the father- 
in-law of our cook. Here is where Ernest had 
come a-courting. 

About fifty miles from Natashquan we 
anchored in a protected cove of Triple Island, 
but alas! only a few herring and great black- 
backed gulls and fewer razor-billed auks were 
to be seen. The gulls flew complainingly over- 
head, and well they might, for their nests, scat- 
tered over the island, had all been robbed. This 
can easily be explained, for it is only nine 
miles from here to the mouth of the Romaine 

8£ 



GRAND ROMAINE AND OLD ROMAINE 

River, where there cire white fishermen, an In- 
dian village, and a Hudson's Bay Company's 
post. The river is called the Grand Romaine 
to distinguish it from the other Romaine River 
to the westward of Esquimaux Point. It is 
said that the derivation of Romaine is from the 
Montagnais orumen, or olumenne, which means 
red earth, and at both of the Romaine rivers 
there is yellow and reddish clay which, when 
boiled in oil, is used for paint. U orumen or 
/ 'eau Romane easily became Romaine, and this 
seems a reasonable derivation for a word which 
appears at first sight to be out of place in this 
cold and barren region. The Post here is pre- 
sided over by a son of my old friend Monsieur 
Molony, the salmon-fisherman of Mingan. 

We at once visited the Indian encampment. 
Nearly all the people retreated to their tents, 
but by a judicious presentation of plug to- 
bacco, with which I had provided myself, I 
induced a number to come out and be photo- 
graphed. The innumerable Indian dogs seized 
the occasion to indulge in a general fight, when 
nothing could be seen but a confused mass of 
feet and tails. All the tents of the interiors of 
which I had glimpses were very neat; the floors 

83 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

were of carefully thatched fresh balsam boughs ; 
guns and various household goods were neatly 
arranged at the sides. Each tent contained a 
small sheet-iron stove whose smoke-pipe was 
conducted out through the top. In one tent 
was a small sewing-machine. We had been 
told by Richard Joncas, of Natashquan, of one 
Indian who spent all his fortune on a parlor 
organ and another one who indulged in a 
safety razor. 

One family group inside a tent struck me as 
being particularly picturesque, but even the 
tobacco did not bring them out. In despair I 
seized each one in turn by the hand and led 
them forth amidst much laughter and grouped 
them about a pot on a fire for their photograph. 
The girls, who were smoking their pipes, — • 
for both sexes and all ages smoke, — could not, 
however, be induced to continue the process 
during the picture-taking. One of the men, 
— particularly well built, tall and lithe, with 
a face indicative of much intelligence and 
strength of character, — I learned through our 
interpreter was Pierre Lolo, the best hunter 
of the tribe. 

Of late the Indians have been fishing for cod 
84 



GRAND ROMAINE AND OLD ROMAINE 

for commercial purposes. On the morning that 
we sailed for Romaine, we passed a half-dozen 
small fishing-schooners or barges, manned en- 
tirely by Indians, all engaged in fishing. We 
heard that they were extremely expert in this, 
but suffered greatly from the wet and cold, as 
they possessed no oilskin clothing. A Labra- 
dorian told us that one Indian could catch as 
many fish as two whites. 

' Fish spread to dry are not safe anywhere 
in the neighborhood of Indian dogs, so the 
smoothly rounded rocky islands that make 
the harbor were utilized for this purpose. 
Morning and evening a picturesque company 
of white men and women could be seen spread- 
ing or stacking the harvest. Like the Indians, 
the people of the coast are fond of bright col- 
ors, and one often sees purple or green or red 
waists or sweaters. I was particularly at- 
tracted by a pale salmon-colored waist worn 
by a woman in a big apron, the "header" at 
a splitting-table. The houses, too, are painted 
in blues and yellows and pinks. 

The next day we rowed and sailed to the 
rapids at the mouth of the Romaine River. 
Splendid salmon were jumping completely 

85 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

out of the water, but no artificial flies were 
cast for their delectation. The owner of the 
river, Sir Charles Ross, was busy in Quebec 
making rifles for his country. 

The botanist always carried a large tin col- 
lecting-box painted white so as not to absorb 
the sun's rays. Its color made it conspicuous 
at a distance and its weight and bulkiness pre- 
vented him from carrying the rucksack contain- 
ing the frying-pan and provisions, which, natu- 
rally, fell to my lot. We always separated early 
in the day on our two different quests, with 
the understanding that we should meet at 
dinner-time on some designated rocky peak 
where we hoped to get out of the flies. The 
arrangement was a very good one for me; I 
did not need to worry — it was the other man's 
interest to find me. He found me that day as 
on all others. 

I was particularly struck that day with the 
unsuspicious nature of Wilson's warbler — • 
that bright-yellow bird with a glossy black 
cap. I sat down in a thicket where two anxious 
parents, each with its bill full of insects, scolded 
me with loud chips. They were often within 
five or six feet of me, and one of them nearly 

86 




LOOKING NORTH OVER GRAND ROMAINE RIVER NEAR ITS MOUTH 




INDIANS AT ROMAINE 



GRAND ROMAINE AND OLD ROMAINE 

alighted on my leg stretched on a log. It was 
evident that a nest of young was concealed 
near at hand. It is a common bird all along 
this southern coast. 

It might be objected that a bird could not 
chip with "its bill full of insects." Birds are, 
however, not only able to chip and scold in the 
most lively manner, but even to sing with their 
bills overflowing with insects. This is because 
the bird's voice is produced lower down, in the 
syrinx, which corresponds to our larynx, and 
the mouth and tongue are not needed for vocal 
expression. In all but a few recent pictures 
of a bird singing, the tongue is shown as if it 
were used as is the human tongue in song. 
As a matter of fact, the bird's tongue during 
song lies passive out of sight on the floor of 
the mouth. 

The view over the valley of the Romalne 
River ,'with its thickly crowded spruce forests, 
to the barrens dotted with lakes and lakelets 
beyond and to the distant range of low moun- 
tains, was a characteristic one of this region. 
In the bogs a hard surface of ice could be 
found a foot to eighteen inches down, and on 
a sand-ridge the ground was frozen solidly 

87 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

thirteen inches from the surface. These sand- 
ridges were exactly like the ridges paralleling 
the beach at Natashquan, and, although now 
several miles back from the coast and fifty or 
a hundred feet above it, they were once at sea- 
level and point to the elevation that is in prog- 
ress on this coast. 

In one of the small ponds, with steep, over- 
hanging sides of matted sphagnum, laurel, and 
spruce, I came upon a mother whistler or 
golden-eye duck with a brood of ten young, 
which, with their black caps and white cheeks, 
looked for all the world like great chickadees 
that had taken to the water. The mother held 
her head erect as she swam back and forth, 
and all her movements betokened anxiety in 
the presence of man. The young swam dutifully 
after her in a compact bunch and showed no 
fear. 

In a sheltered valley where the trees were 
twenty feet or so in height a pigeon hawk 
launched himself at me quivering his wings 
and crying with anger. His assault was at 
once followed up by the assault of a slightly 
larger bird, the female, and as long as I re- 
mained in the vicinity, they continued to scold 

88 



GRAND ROMAINE AND OLD ROMAINE 

and attack me, coming sometimes within fif- 
teen or twenty feet of my head. Search as 
I would, however, I could not find the nest, 
although I must have been as hot on the trail 
as I felt. 

The next day was dark and easterly with 
occasional rains, but we put to sea, and passed 
an Island that abounded in razor-billed auks, 
eiders, and gulls, with here and there a puffin 
and a murre. Some of these murres — very 
properly known in England as foolish guille- 
mots — nearly hit our sails as they flew by the 
boat. On another island lived a family of fish- 
ermen, natives of Anticosti, who would not 
obey Menier's hunting-laws and had been de- 
ported. 

We took refuge from the coming storm in 
the harbor of Old Romaine, where there was 
formerly a Hudson's Bay post, but now no 
sign of human occupancy is to be discerned. It 
is a well-protected basin perhaps a mile long 
and a quarter of a mile broad, hemmed in by 
numerous low rocky islands. 

It may have been here that Audubon landed, 
for the distance from Natashquan would in- 
dicate this region: "June 29. At three this 

89 



m AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

morning we were off the land about fifteen 
miles, and about fifty from American Harbor, 
. . . We neared the shore, but as before our 
would-be pilot could not recognize the land, 
and our captain had to search for a harbor 
where we now are, himself. We passed near 
an island covered with Foolish Guillemots, and 
came to, for the purpose of landing; we did so 
through a heavy surf, and found two eggers 
just landed, and running over the rocks for 
eggs." The Ripley apparently did not stay 
there, but went on to Wapitagun. The distance 
given by Audubon of that anchorage from Lit- 
tle Mecattina, forty-three miles, and the de- 
scription of the country, identify Wapitagun, 
which indeed he mentions by name in his 
account of the razor-billed auk. 

When we were anchored we explored the land 
and found it to be a wild, desolate country of 
bog and pool. The forest had retired inland; 
only patches of stunted spruce and fir and larch 
were to be seen, yet in one of them a Mary- 
land yellow- throat was singing his "witchery" 
song as much at home as if he were in New 
England. It is my most arctic record for this 
bird. The Arctic Zone begins as a narrow 

90 



GRAND ROMAINE AND OLD ROMAINE 

strip at Natashquan; here it had developed 
broader proportions and its character was un- 
mistakable. It included, however, low thickets, 
— Hudsonian islands, — and it was in one of 
these that the yellow-throat was singing. With 
it were tree sparrows, true residents of the 
Hudsonian Zone. This is the little sparrow 
with the chestnut-colored top-piece and the 
one dark spot on its breast that is to be found 
only in winter in New England. 

The horned lark, a bird characteristic of the 
Arctic fauna, was nesting close to the shore; 
its golden speckled young of the first brood 
were on the wing, and the old birds were in- 
dulging in true "sky-larking" or singing up in 
the sky. It was interesting to watch the deter- 
mined manner in which the bird would push 
its way upwards, sometimes nearly vertically, 
sometimes in irregular circles. It was all done 
so silently that one almost held one's breath 
in order to hear the outburst of song which 
was sure to come as soon as the lark had 
reached a height of six or seven hundred feet. 
Here he appeared as but a minute speck in 
the sky. The song during the first excitement 
was often continuous for several moments, but 

91 



IN AUDUBON'S LABEADOR 

later it came in regular beats while the bird 
soared in circles or headed into the wind. It 
was interrupted while he flapped his wings 
and got his breath. It was a squeaky, jingly, 
metallic song, abounding in high notes and 
fine trills, not a very polished musical perform- 
ance, but sufficiently pleasing and decidedly 
interesting. Often it was impossible to find 
the bird from whom came the tinkling shower 
of melody, and one would catch sight of it 
only as it came plunging headlong to earth as 
silent as it rose. In fogs it was always a case 
of "vox, et prcEterea nihil. '^ 

In 1909 Mr. Bent and I had found a breed- 
ing pair of homed larks at Natashquan, but 
it is doubtful if they breed regularly to the 
westward of this. The prairie horned lark 
breeds about Quebec, but how far beyond the 
Saguenay to the eastward it extends its range 
I do not know. There is a long forested shore 
between the Saguenay and Natashquan, and 
it is unlikely that horned larks breed regu- 
larly in this intervening space. 

The botanist was in his element, but rather 
low in his mind on account of the emharras des 
richesses. He had not let the grass grow under 

92 



GRAND ROMAINE AND OLD ROMAINE 

his feet, for he generally uprooted it with his 
little pick and packed it away in his white tin 
box, and later washed it and put it in his 
presses. But his presses were all full, for dry- 
ing plants in this damp climate is a difficult 
matter, although he used corrugated boards 
for ventilation and flaked naphthalin as a 
preservative and dryer. Artificial desiccation 
by means of a kerosene stove he found was out 
of the question in our crowded quarters. We 
did not wish to be burned or blown up. 

We seemed to be having genuine Audubon- 
ian Labrador weather, for in the afternoon it 
came on to blow hard from the east and the air 
was filled with driving rain. Our little harbor 
was white with spindrift blown horizontally 
by the wind and dashed up against the rocks, 
which looked as if they were covered with 
drifting snow. The great black-backed gulls 
with wings partly closed sailed into the blasts 
borne on the currents deflected from the rocks, 
and, with superb mastery of the air, whirled 
and pirouetted as if in sheer delight. This was 
on July 9, 1915. On July 10, 1833, Audubon 
experienced a similar gale and he describes it 
vividly. "The rain," he writes, "is driven in 

93 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

sheets which seem scarcely to fall on sea or 
land ; I can hardly call it rain, it is rather a mass 
of water, so thick that all objects at any dis- 
tance from us are lost to sight every three or 
four minutes, and the waters come up and beat 
about us in our rock-bound harbor as a newly 
caged bird does against its imprisoning walls. 
The Great Black-backed Gull alone is seen 
floating through the storm, screaming loudly 
and mournfully as it seeks its prey; not an- 
other bird is to be seen abroad." 

It was a wild lullaby that night. The rain 
dashed in sheets against our little craft, which 
rolled and pitched and tugged desperately at 
her rattling chains. The wind howled through 
the rigging as gust after gust tore by. The 
halyards slatted against the masts in a loud 
rub-a-dub-dub, and the roar of the surf on the 
rocks and the hissing of the rain on the waves 
formed a continuous undertone. I turned into 
m.y bunk in the cabin early, having perfect 
confidence in the captain and in the fact that 
we had two anchors out in five fathoms of 
water on a sand and clay bottom. I slept 
through it all, perhaps for the same reason 
that the assistant of the Bishop of Newfound- 

94 




SURF ON HARBOR ISLAND, OLD ROMAINE 




HAULING A COD-TRAP 



GRAND ROMiVINE AND OLD ROMAINE 

land slept during a similar storm. The aged 
bishop was on a tour of the outlying island 
posts in the Church of England yacht, and was 
unable to sleep when they were storm- tossed. 
He watched the night out in the cabin, but the 
assistant slept calmly. Finally, in the fiercest 
of the blow, the bishop could stand it no longer, 
and, rousing the vicar, said, "How can you 
sleep in a storm like this?" To which the 
younger man replied, "An easy conscience, 
my lord." 

Captain Joncas was up several times in the 
night to let out more chains and fasten them 
to the masts with ropes, for the constant strain 
had broken the windlass. I had rather scoffed 
at Audubon's gales and hurricanes and thought 
they were merely a landsman's description of 
stiff breezes, but if he had anything like our 
gale, he certainly employed the proper terms. 
It is unusual even in Labrador to have such a 
storm in July. On the following day we visited 
the large harbor island, and watched the surf 
which was dashing upon the rocks and filling 
with foam the entrance through which we had 
come. 

The next day, and again the next, we en- 
95 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

deavored to sail out, but calms, head winds, 
and heavy seas compelled a resort to sweeps 
and to towing in the small boat to keep us off 
the dangerous reefs and bring us back safely 
to our haven. Our time was not wasted, as 
both of us were adding to our knowledge of 
the fauna and flora. (Mr. Dooley said that 
he should think the wife of a certain explorer 
would be jealous, as her husband was continu- 
ally talking of Fauna and Flora.) If the delay 
continued much longer we decided to change 
the name of the harbor from Romaine to Re- 
main. It was one of the occasions when a 
gasoline motor would have been useful, but I 
am very glad we were able to accomplish the 
trip without this unpoetic adjunct. 

The great black-backed gull, which is an 
abundant breeder all along the coast, is my 
ideal of a noble-looking bird. It is true that 
it is a pirate of the worst sort, and takes every 
opportunity to eat the eggs of terns, eiders, 
and other water-birds and even to kill and eat 
the young. On one occasion I saw a gull swoop 
at a family of eider ducklings, which promptly 
dived and escaped. On another occasion a gull 
pounced on a young eider and seized it in its bill, 

96 



GRAND ROMAINE AND OLD ROMAINE 

notwithstanding the protests of the mother, 
who made a great turmoil on the water, flap- 
ping about Hke a wounded bird. The pirate 
bore the soft, downy thing to the rocks, and, 
as we sailed by, we could see it pounding its 
little life out and devouring it. M. Beetz has 
seen this gull drop a young duck from a height 
on the rocks to kill it, and quickly fly down to 
pick up the tender morsel in the same way 
that it drops clams and sea-urchins to break 
their shells. The captain said that the people 
here thought this habit of preying on eggs and 
young of other birds was a recently acquired 
trait because "bait," small fish, were scarce, 
but Audubon in his Journal says, ''The L. 
marinus is extremely abundant here; they are 
forever harassing every other bird, sucking 
their eggs and devouring their young"; and 
again, "The Larus marinus was observed try- 
ing to catch the young of the Eiders." 

As with some other pirates and highwaymen, 
the home life of this gull is, however, of the 
best, and I watched with great pleasure two 
pairs of these birds on different parts of the 
island close to our anchorage, which were all 
devotion. They learned that we did not intend 

97 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

to harm their young after a trying experience 
on the first day when I put aluminum bands 
on the legs of these same youngsters. During 
this process the parents launched themselves 
at me, screaming violently, and forgot their 
usual timidity by approaching within half a 
gunshot. Morning and evening and at various 
times through the day the slightly larger male 
and the smaller female of each pair could be 
seen standing side by side, looking affection- 
ately at each other from time to time, and 
glancing proudly about at their offspring, which 
were crouching flat on the rocks or in the moss 
waiting until their last meal should be so far 
absorbed that nature demanded more. The 
splendid snow-white heads, breasts, and tails 
of the old birds contrasted strikingly with 
their broad blue-black backs and wings. Pairs 
of these birds in the same attitude were com- 
mon sights all along this Labrador coast, and 
they; rose up with their threatening screams 
whenever we landed. Their nests were often 
on the highest points, sometimes great shallow 
saucer-shaped depressions in the moss and 
turf, sometimes built elaborately with grass 
stalks, small sticks, feathers, and dry seaweed. 




GREAT BLACK-BACKED GULLS 

Photograph by Howard H. Cleaves 




YOUNG GREAT BLACK-BACKED GULL3 



GRAND ROMAINE AND OLD ROMAINE 

The eggs, generally three in number, are splen- 
did great brown-speckled things. The gray 
and spotted downy chicks soon leave the nest, 
and, spreading out flat and motionless, are 
difficult to see on the granitic lichen-covered 
rocks, with which they harmonize in a won- 
derful manner. When they are as large as 
fair-sized domestic fowls, they are considered 
great delicacies by the people, and the tender 
flesh is much sought. They take to the water 
before they can fly, and are skillful swimmers 
even at a very early age. 

In walking alone over the bogs and hills 
even some miles inland I have often been 
startled by the very human quality of the calls 
of this bird, which vary from a harsh scream, 
or loud cow cow, to low conversational notes. 
Car-cas-sonne and au-par-a-vant are the most 
easily syllabized of their calls, and I have often 
fancied I heard them cry out help help in the 
most stilted manner of speech ever used by 
Irving. This appeal would sometimes be fol- 
lowed by the word ma-ma. Notwithstanding 
its highwayman traits I am fond of the great 
black-backed gull. 

It might be well to relate here a sequel to 
99 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

the banding incident related above. I had 
provided myself with a number of aluminum 
bands, each stamped with a number and **iVo- 
tify Am. Museum. N.Y.,*' furnished by the 
American Bird-Banding Association, whose 
headquarters are at the American Museum of 
Natural History in New York City. Birds 
which are banded in the nest, and recorded on 
cards that are sent to the Association, may af- 
terwards fall into the hands of man, and if the 
date and locality of their decease is forwarded 
to the central bureau where the original rec- 
ord is kept, many interesting and unexpected 
things may in time be learned about migra- 
tion and bird wandering. Already considerable 
valuable information has been accumulated. 
Now it so happened that a couple of weeks 
after I had banded those downy black-backed 
gulls, Ambroise Lalo, a Montagnais Indian, 
was much surprised to find a little shining 
ring on the leg of a plump young gull that he 
was preparing for the pot, and he later pre- 
sented this curious ring to Captain Joncas. 
In this way I learned that number 36,340 met 
his death only four miles from his birthplace. 
I had an amusing experience here at Old 
100 



GRAND ROMAINE AND OLD ROMAINE 

Romaine, or rather an Indian had. I had shot 
a double-crested cormorant, which fell into a 
shallow passage between two islands. It was 
too interesting a specimen to lose and, wading 
nearly to my neck, I succeeded in recovering 
him. While I was about it I decided to cross 
the passage a short distance farther up and 
pick up a horned lark, that, with the usual 
hardihood and vigor of this species, had flown 
some distance after I had shot it before it fell. 
As I was creeping along a rock on my return, 
clad only in my binoculars and shotgun, I 
suddenly came upon an Indian in his canoe. 
The man paddled by with an imperturbable 
countenance, although he had probably never 
seen a white man under such peculiar circum- 
stances, for, as far as my observation goes, 
neither white men nor Indians on this coast 
ever think of bathing in the sea. 
i Indians were frequently seen cruising about 
and visiting the islands, shooting the nesting 
birds and taking the eggs and young. "You 
can't blame them," said our captain, the game- 
warden; "they are starving." The winter hunt 
is growing poorer of late years and the fall in 
the price of furs since the war began has fur- 
101 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

ther impoverished them. The great increase 
in the price of furs before the war induced 
many whites to enter the business of trapping, 
and thus help to exterminate the Indian's 
chief dependence. At Grand Romaine the 
Indians had no flour. 

Our captain was a broad-minded man, and 
one who could rise above prejudices. No one 
on the coast would think of eating cormorants, 
although gulls, murres, and auks, which live 
on the same fishy food, are eagerly eaten. 
The uncanny, snakelike neck, the bare patch 
of orange-colored skin at the throat, and the 
curious web on the feet connecting all the toes, 
as well as the filthy nesting-habits, easily 
account for this prejudice. It is possible that 
the old Mosaic law forbidding its use as food 
may still have its influence. After preparing 
the skin of my cormorant, I broiled the breast 
and served it with a well-seasoned flour and 
onion sauce. The men turned away from it 
with horror, but the captain, much to his own 
surprise, found it delicious, as indeed it was, 
tender and agreeable, tasting not at all fishy. 
I trust I have not introduced a taste which 
will lead to the destruction of this interesting 
102 



GRAND ROMAINE AND OLD ROMAINE 

bird, but few are as broad-minded as our cap- 
tain, so there is no need to worry. Unfor- 
tunately the bird has a very bad name, and is 
accused of eating young salmon, and the hand 
of every salmon-fisher is turned against it. 
Cormorants are shot as pests and fed to the 
dogs and to captive foxes. While we were de- 
tained at Old Romaine, companies of five to 
twenty or thirty of these weird-looking birds 
were frequently to be seen flying back and 
forth from the direction of Grand Romaine 
River, and the birds' case looked bad. The bird 
I shot was flying towards the river, and his 
stomach was filled with small fish, not salmon. 
It would have been interesting to investigate 
the stomach-contents of the returning birds, 
but that I was unable to do. 

In the spring of 19 14 the attention of the 
Canadian Geological Survey was called to 
complaints of damage done by cormorants to 
the salmon-fisheries of the Gaspe coast, and 
the ornithologist, Mr. P. A. Taverner, was 
sent there to investigate. The club anglers of 
that coast were insistent that the cormorants 
were doing much damage among the young 
salmon. Mr. Taverner found, however, that 

103 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

the cormorants rarely ascended the rivers be- 
yond the tidal influence. Of thirty-two stom- 
achs examined, fifteen contained sculpins; 
five, herrings; two, tom-eod; and one each, 
capelin and eels ; the others were empty or the 
contents were unrecognizable. The birds with 
empty stomachs had been fishing where there 
were no sculpins. The number of salmon in the 
rivers has been increasing of late years, and 
with this there has been an increase in the num- 
ber of cormorants. Mr. Taverner concludes, 
therefore, that the birds are not harmful to 
salmon, and that they may even be beneficial 
by weeding out the weak and unfit fish. A 
vigorous young salmon is so difficult to catch 
that the sluggish bottom-feeding sculpins are 
preferred. It is to be hoped that the clubs 
will withdraw their offer of twenty-five cents 
a head for cormorants. 

To persuade the average man that any liv- 
ing species is worth preserving unless it has 
some obvious value to mankind is a difficult 
task. A friend of mine was watching the nest 
and eggs of a Virginia rail, until a barbarian 
in the form of a small boy found and deliber- 
ately destroyed them. When remonstrated 
104 



GRAND ROMAINE AND OLD ROMAINE 

with, the boy asked, with a finality not to be 
gainsaid, "What use are they?" Some work- 
men looking at a flock of beautiful gulls soar- 
ing with exquisite grace over the water were 
overheard to ask the same question: "What 
use are they?" Ornithologists and nature- 
lovers are often hard put to it to give so-called 
practical value to certain birds, so that their 
lives as individuals and even as species may 
be safeguarded. 

The aesthetic value of birds — the joy which 
their beauty and grace and their free and 
happy lives can give to the workers in this 
sordid world — does not appeal to the thought- 
less. The naturalist's interest in any rep- 
resentative in the great evolutionary tree of 
life, and his sorrow at its extinction and the 
resulting disturbance of nature's balance, are 
entirely beyond the comprehension of the or- 
dinary man. He is satisfied if any species can 
be shown to be of economic use, but in the 
absence of this dollars-and-cents value he cares 
not whether the species lives or dies. The cor- 
morant is an example of a bird that appears 
to have no so-called use, and one against 
which, therefore, bad marks are only too will- 
105 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

ingly placed. To the nature-lover from either 
the aesthetic or the scientific point of view no 
argument is necessary. The sight of a large 
flock of cormorants, swinging resistlessly by 
in steady flight along the New England coast 
some autumn day when the surf is pounding 
hard on the reefs and ledges, brings joy to 
many, and lifts them, for the time at least, 
above the thoughts of mere money-getting. 
That the cormorant was originally a land-bird 
and related to the American vultures becomes 
credible to the scientific nature-lover when he 
finds that it sometimes builds its bulky nest 
in a tree, that its young are slow in develop- 
ing, and that it sits with its wings spread out. 
There is much to be learned and much to be 
enjoyed in the study and contemplation of 
this bird, and one cannot help feeling dis- 
turbed when wealthy salmon-anglers from the 
cities on insufficient evidence selfishly con- 
demn it to possible extinction. 

I hoped to get a taste of another unusual vi- 
and at Old Romaine, a viand which the captain 
especially praised and was eager to obtain, — 
I refer to the porpoises which from time to 
time puffed and rolled through our harbor, — • 

106 



GRAND ROMAINE AND OLD ROMAINE 

but the hunters were unsuccessful after several 
attempts. The men called them pussies, or so 
the word sounded to us, and It was adopted for 
the rest of the voyage. The Acadian word for 
porpoise I have since found to be poursille. 

Small flocks of Hudsonian curlews occasion- 
ally flew by us from west to east while we 
were at this anchorage. They were on their 
southern migration, and are always early 
migrants. Their long, curved bills and loud 
calls easily identifi.ed them. It is probable 
that they cross the base of the peninsula from 
James Bay, follow the coast as far as Chateau, 
cross over to Newfoundland, and so on down 
the eastern coast of the continent. They are 
considerably larger than the Eskimo curlews 
that formerly existed in countless multitudes, 
but are now nearly extinct. 

Another sea-bird worth mentioning is the 
Caspian tern, of which I saw five or six at 
Old Romaine. It is a fine bird, resembling in 
plumage and habits the common tern, but 
nearly as large as a herring gull. Its bright- 
red bill, its large size combined with its habit 
of flying with the bill pointed downwards, and 
its method of capturing fish by a plunge from 
107 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

a height in the air at once serve to identify 
the bird here. Its voice is a harsh, unpleasant 
scream entirely unlike any of the sounds made 
by either common tern or herring gull. I was 
sitting on the rocks of our harbor one after- 
noon when I was startled by the scream of 
this bird and saw one chasing another. Later 
one of them darted at a great black-backed 
gull and then launched itself at the water for 
a fish. Audubon saw several pairs of this re- 
markable bird in Labrador, but he confused 
it with the Cayenne or royal tern, a bird of 
much more southern distribution. Frazar also 
found it there in 1884, and Mr. Bent and I saw 
one at the mouth of the Natashquan River 
on May 31, 1909. Captain Joncas recognized 
the bird as la grande estorlette, and hoped to 
show us its breeding-ground, but in this, to 
my regret, he was unsuccessful. It was a good 
bird to see and record, however. Long may it 
live and multiply in Labrador! 

Another interesting ornithological experi- 
ence at Old Romaine was with a family of ' 
spotted sandpipers, the familiar teeter-peep of 
the New England coast, — Valouette d branle 
queue the captain called it. At the mouth 
108 



GRAND ROMAINE AND OLD ROMAINE 

of a little stream an anxious parent nervously 
flew about or walked and teetered on the rocks 
where I landed. Soon her alarm increased and 
she fluttered within a few feet of me, endeavor- 
ing to lead me away from her little family of 
three or four downy chicks that were crouched 
concealed in the grass. Concealment proving 
of no avail, they proceeded to run away, wag- 
ging the posterior parts of their bodies — their 
tailless tails — like adults. Coming to a pool 
of water, they swam with ease and grace, sit- 
ting erect like little ducks. Later in the trip, 
at Blanc Sablon, I came on another family of 
young of this species, nearly all full-grown, 
but still unable to fly. I caught one and put it 
in the river, where it at once dived and swam 
under water, using its wings and feet for pro- 
pulsion. After a short subaqueous flight it rose 
to the surface, quickly swam to the other 
side, and walked out on the sand where its 
anxious mother was awaiting it. It is evi- 
dent that shorebirds are of water ancestry, 
and, like the auks with which they are related, 
they swim and dive before they can fly. The 
partially webbed feet of some species also show 
this water ancestry. 



CHAPTER V 

WAPITAGUN 

AT last the wind changed to the southwest, 
the sea fell noticeably, — "As winds for- 
saking seas more softly blow," — and after 
a brief and mosquito-filled night we were 
safely off at three on the morning of July 14. 
That was an eventful day, packed full with 
interesting experiences. The wind compelled 
us to sail offshore — au large — instead of 
threading some delightful inland waterways 
of which the captain had told us. The sun 
rose clear and cold over a shore that, as we 
advanced, grew higher and more bold in rocky 
headlands. It was a great pleasure to feel the 
gentle land breeze after so long a period of 
raw sea-winds. As we joyously bowled along, 
we passed Audubon Island, an irregular 
rounded pile of rocks culminating in two prom- 
inences perhaps one hundred and twenty-five 
feet above the sea. The red of the granitic 
rocks contrasted well with the faint tinge of 
green vegetation that sparsely clothed the 

110 



WAPITAGUN 

summits. The island was undoubtedly named 
by Captain Bayfield in the summer of 1833. 

Off Coacoacho Bay is a small rocky island, 
■ — Outer Island or He au Large, — on the 
summit of which, about forty feet above the 
water, a triangular beacon had been placed. 
Even from a distance we could see that the 
top of the rock was crowded with birds to such 
an extent as to lead Captain Joncas to exclaim: 
"This is the old times come back!" We were, 
indeed, fortunate, as it was evident that this 
year, at least, no one had visited the island. 
The red granitic rock was painted white with 
guano, against which the birds stood out black 
and prominent. From afar we could distin- 
guish the strange black forms of cormorants, 
which we later found to be all of the double- 
crested species. As we sailed nearer we saw 
that every foot that was not occupied by cor- 
morants and their bulky nests was filled with 
murres standing erect in their black coats and 
white vests, while overhead hovered a dozen 
or more complaining great black-backed gulls. 
We landed on the rocks on the lee side, but in 
by no means calm water. Our landing-boat 
or tender was stoutly built and the captain's 
111 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

habit was to run her bow on to a smooth rock 
at the top of a wave, and, after all had jumped 
out, to pull her up before the next wave struck. 
To our delight most of the birds remained at 
their posts even after we had landed in this 
rude and boisterous manner, and the botanist 
and I carefully stalked them with our cameras 
leveled. Soon we found ourselves among the 
cormorants' nests with murres on all sides. 
Although most of the adult cormorants had 
silently left, their kind was well represented 
by the young, who, crying vociferously for 
food, stretched their necks at us from the 
nests. They were extraordinary creatures, 
generally three, sometimes four, or only two 
in a nest. When small they were entirely desti- 
tute of down or feathers and of the color and 
appearance of an india-rubber doll. The large 
ones, from a foot to two feet long, were cov- 
ered with a black woolly down suggestive of 
a toy black lamb. They were, indeed, weird 
objects as they thrust out their long snakelike 
necks and small heads. Their naked throat- 
sacs, of a pale yellow color tinged with pink, 
distended and quivered as they constantly 
called in hoarse, beseeching tones for food. I 
112 








-> r^?/«ai3K *^Ai 'SL^/i^** 




OUTER ISLAND: MURRES AND THEIR EGGS: DOUBLE-CRESTED 
CORMORANTS, NESTS, AND YOUNG 



WAPITAGUN 

counted six hundred nests and there may 
have been more — great basket affairs nearly 
two feet across in outside measurements and 
built up from three or four inches to a foot in 
height. Several were placed astraddle of the 
lower frame of the triangular beacon. They 
were made of weed-stalks intermingled with 
dry grass and seaweed and branches of cur- 
lew-berry vine, spruce, and fir. Many of the 
nests, although much soiled with the chalky, 
slimy droppings of the bird, had some decora- 
tion in the form of a feather or two or a fresh 
green branch. I once found a long, curled wood- 
shaving on the edge of a nest. 

An interesting tale of decoration of the nests 
by cormorants was brought to our attention. I 
am inclined to believe this story from my knowl- 
edge of the habits of this bird, and as it was 
not solicited or even suggested on our part. It 
seems that a trading-schooner was sunk two 
years ago off Washsheecootai Point, and this 
summer, when some fishermen visited a cormo- 
rant island near by, they found that the birds had 
decorated their nests with pocket-knives, pipes, 
hairpins, and ladies' combs — objects which 
they had obtained by diving to the wreck. 

113 



IN AUDUBON'S LABEADOR 

A few of the nests on Outer Island con- 
tained eggs, and it was interesting to notice 
the small size of these eggs of the cormorant 
as compared with the large eggs of the much 
smaller murre. The latter bird builds no nest 
and lays its one beautiful egg anywhere on the 
rocks. The egg is curiously tapered so as to be 
much smaller at one end than at the other. 
This makes it roll in a circle about the smaller 
end and tends to prevent its falling from ledges. 
No two are alike in color or markings. They 
vary from white to brown and sky-blue and 
are marked as if by an erratic artist with a 
great variety of spots, lines, dashes, and 
blotches. These gems of beauty were, how- 
ever, often sadly befouled so that no trace 
was to be seen of their exquisite coloring or 
marking, for the close crowding of so many 
birds, particularly of cormorants, produces an 
indescribable filth. The odor is one that clings 
to the memory as well as to the clothing. 

The owners of these wonderful eggs were 
still more interesting, the murres, or marmettes 
as they are called here, — the foolish guille- 
mots of Audubon and of English writers. They 
stood about in crowds and anxiously made 
114 



WAPITAGUN 

way for us, walking or running along erect 
with legs apart in a comical manner, as they 
waved their short, paddlelike wings to aid 
them in balancing. They reminded me at 
once of moving pictures I had seen of Ant- 
arctic penguins. In their anxiety and nervous- 
ness they frequently fell over the cormorants* 
nests and sadly stained their white shirt- 
fronts in the mire, and often, in their attempts 
to rise on the wing, they would sprawl head- 
foremost down the rocks. Occasionally we 
would see one try to arrange an egg against 
the bare incubating space in the middle of the 
belly. How each knows its own egg is a puzzle. 
During all this time they were as silent as the 
adult cormorants, but the young cormorants 
made noise enough for all. 

A considerable proportion of the murres 
had narrow white eye-rings and white lines 
leading back from the eyes. This bird is known 
as the bridled or ringed murre, but is not 
given rank as a separate species, although it 
may deserve it. The fact that the common 
murre and the ringed one breed in the same 
colonies and that birds of both kinds have 
been found breeding together does not vitiate 

115 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

this possibility, for hybridization among water- 
fowl is not rare. The ringed murre is certainly 
a marked bird. I retain a mental image of a 
group of fifteen or twenty murres standing 
huddled together, all of whom were ringed. 

William the Pirate was anxious I should 
fire my gun and mark the effect on the birds, 
but this I refused to do, although I allowed 
him to catch a couple of murres — one of them 
ringed ■ — for me for specimens and thus satisfy 
his lust for blood. We counted a hundred 
murres' eggs in a space ten feet square and 
calculated there were about two thousand 
murres, and, as there were six hundred cor- 
morants' nests, about twelve hundred adult 
cormorants in the colony. When we returned 
to the schooner we first became aware of the 
curious noises made by the murres as they 
flew by us with a rattling ah-ah-ah. They col- 
lected in groups on the water and their com- 
bined voices produced a long-drawn, plain- 
tive, moaning wail. At times It was a sharp 
snarl, at times it resembled the plaintive baa 
of a forlorn lamb. This bird resembles in gen- 
eral the razor-billed auk, but can be distin- 
guished from the auk by its long, slender bill 

116 



WAPITAGUN 

and its very short tail. In the water the auk is 
apt to cock its tail up. In flight the legs of the 
murre extend out behind like a tail and like 
the same appendage are spread apart when 
the bird makes quick turns. In the auk the 
legs in flight are concealed under the tail. As 
far as I could discover there were no Briin- 
nich's murres on the island. This bird, which 
prefers the narrow ledges of clifTs, occurs on 
the eastern coast and to a less extent on the 
southern. It is distinguished by a broader, 
thicker bill. 

As we sailed away we had the pleasure of 
seeing the birds return at once to the island 
and of knowing that, although we had obtained 
much information in the form of notes and 
photographs, we had caused the birds but lit- 
tle anxiety or damage. I shudder to think of 
the devastation that would be inflicted by the 
arrival on the island of the crew of a fishing- 
schooner, yet this arrival is more than a prob- 
ability. The consideration of the prevention 
of this sort of thing and the conservation of 
the birds will be reserved for a later chapter. 

Not far from Coacoacho Bay we passed Wolf 
Bay and could see the house of the only family 
117 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

there, that of Gilbert Jones. This man, now 
in his eighty-third year, came here from Bra- 
dore Bay some forty years ago and he has 
reared a family of six sons and many grand- 
children. His father was the squatter of Bra- 
dore Bay about whom Audubon has written 
so interestingly. Beyond his house to the 
eastward loom up the cliffs of Cape Whittle, 
rising from deep water to a height of one hun- 
dred and fifty feet. We sailed so close that 
it seemed a simple matter to toss a pebble — • 
or clam as in our case — against the rocks, but 
distances under these circumstances are par- 
ticularly deceptive as we found by experi- 
ence. The rocks were brown and red, daubed 
in places with great splotches of white where 
cormorants were nesting. The captain said 
that in former years the whole cape looked 
from a distance like an iceberg, but the birds 
are now nearly all driven away. Fishing- 
schooners for years have been in the habit of 
sailing close inshore and the men have dis- 
charged their guns at the poor birds, for the 
brutal pleasure of seeing them fly off in terror 
and fall wounded into the sea. There were only 
fifteen or twenty nests on these cliffs, where up 

118 




CAPE WHITTLE 




NEST OF DOUBLE-CRESTED CORMORANT CONTAINING YOUNG 



WAPITAGUN 

to a few years ago they were to be counted by 
hundreds. Among the few birds that flew off 
from the cliffs at our approach, only one dis- 
played the white markings about the neck 
which showed it to be a common cormorant, 
and not the double-crested kind that is so 
much the more common here. The common 
cormorants were really common in Audubon's 
day. 

We found that the double-crested cormo- 
rant had taken refuge on the islands, for on 
landing on Gull Island off the cape we dis- 
covered that these birds were even more nu- 
merous than at lie au Large. How quickly birds 
respond to treatment, good or bad ! The sound 
of a gun, no matter how distant, inspires terror 
in all the birds within earshot, and the mere 
appearance of a man, who is associated in 
the bird's mind with the noise of a gun and 
the accompanying pain and destruction, often 
causes the same terror. On the other hand, 
we found on these islands that if we moved 
about slowly and carefully, fired no guns, and 
avoided disturbing the birds in any way, they 
soon got used to us and remained on their nests 
or eggs. Cormorants are more timid than 
119 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

murres, but on this Gull Island we were able 
to approach within two or three paces of some 
of the cormorants before they flew away from 
the nests where they were brooding their 
young. These birds are at first sight not 
pleasing to look upon, but both the botanist 
and I were much attracted by one individual 
who, as she brooded her young, displayed in 
her countenance — if I may use the word — • 
and in her whole bearing the tender emotions 
of motherly love. We approached her slowly 
and with great care and I finally stood within 
four feet of the nest. Addressing her in terms 
of endearment, I endeavored to stroke her 
back, but even a follower of Audubon could 
not inspire faith enough for this familiarity. 
I am sure that, if I could have visited this 
charming bird again, we should have been 
able to establish terms of mutual confidence. 
It reminded me of an experience of Audubon's 
on the cliffs of Cape Whittle opposite. He 
says, "I had the pleasure of coming imme- 
diately upon a Cormorant's nest, that lay in 
a declivity not more than four or five yards 
below me; the mother bird was on her nest 
with three young; I was unobserved by her 

120 



WAPITAGUN 

for some minutes, and was delighted to see 
how kindly attentive she was to her dear 
brood ; suddenly her keen eye saw me, and she 
flew off as if to dive in the sea." 

Cape Whittle is itself the terminal point 
of a large island — put down on the maps as 
Lake Island. Next to this island is Wapita- 
gun, and the Newfoundland fisherman, as he 
sails by, points to a great rounded rock on the 
cliffs of Misstassini — the island just outside 
— as a jiistification to him of the name Wa- 
pitagun, "a whopping great gun," for the rock 
looks like a mortar or great gun. The deriva- 
tion is as curious a corruption of words as is 
that of the old hostelry in London known as 
the " Cat-in-the- Wheel Inn." The original 
name was "St. Catherine's Wheel." Wapita- 
gun is of Indian origin and means cormorant, 
an entirely appropriate name for this region. 
This rock looked like a poised boulder left by 
the last glacial period, but poised boulders 
less than two or three hundred feet above the 
sea are unknown on this coast, for the reason 
that after the glacial period and before the 
present rising of the coast there was a submer- 
sion and the boulders were washed by the 
121 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

waves into hollows. Occasionally a boulder 
is so firmly lodged in a cleft that it has not 
rolled away or has been lying in a harbor 
secure from the waves, but boulders such as 
these are rare. The captain said that he was 
told by one of the early Acadians. that in forr 
mer days there was a French settlement at 
this point, and that the great rock was rolled 
up to this conspicuous place as a beacon. If 
this tradition is true it explains to the geologist 
the apparent paradox of a poised boulder on a 
previously submerged coast, or, as the botan- 
ist put it, "it lets the geologist out in great 
shape." 

After leaving Gull Island we sailed by the 
point of Cape Whittle and entered the pas- 
sage which leads to the protected harbor of 
Wapitagun. Audubon in his account of the 
razor-billed auk gives a theatrical description 
of the Ripley's entrance into the same harbor: 
"Springing upon the deck, and turning his 
quid rapidly from side to side, he called out, 
'All hands square the yards,' and whispered 
to me, 'All's safe, my good sir.' The schooner 
advanced towards the huge barrier, merrily 
as a fair maiden to meet her beloved ; now she 
122 



WAPITAGUN 

doubles a sharp cape, forces her way through 
a narrow pass; and lo! before you opens the 
noble harbour of Whapati Guan. All around 
was calm and solemn; the waters were smooth 
as glass, the sails fell against the masts, but 
the impetus which the vessel had received 
urged her along. The lead was heaved at every 
yard, and in a few minutes the anchor was 
dropped." 

The harbor of Wapitagun is a long, pro- 
tected passage between Wapitagun on the 
north and Misstassini and other islands on the 
south and east. Wapitagun itself is a great 
island about three miles long by over a mile 
broad. It is a region of rocks and bogs, of 
pools and lakes, of lichens and mosses, arctic 
flowers and creeping birch and spruce. In 
one of the lakelets in a flat barren was a pair 
of red-throated loons that rose into the air at 
my approach, and flew about high overhead, 
croaking dismally. Their son and heir in his 
coat of light-brown furry down had left the 
nest, and was vigorously swimming about. 
The old birds were dressed alike, and wore a 
handsome livery, pure white below, relieved 
only by a broad strip of terra-cotta red on the 
123 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

throat. The upper parts are slate blue; the 
back of the neck is slashed with wavy lines of 
white. Whabby is their name among the Eng- 
lish-speaking people of the coast. It was used 
by Cartwright in the eighteenth century. 

In a dark, deep valley with precipitous sides 
I came upon a picturesque tarn. From among 
the alders which crowded its outlet arose the 
song of a winter wren, a bird recorded by 
Audubon at Wapitagun, possibly at the same 
place. I did not attempt to find it in the 
tangle; one might as well look for a mouse in 
the same situation. The hills about, although 
barely two hundred feet high, were mountain- 
ous in appearance. In these rugged surround- 
ings where it is difficult to estimate size, one 
has often a feeling that he is looking the wrong 
way through binoculars, and it seems much 
more appropriate to speak of lakes and moun- 
tains than of pools and hills. 

On my return the trill of a least sandpiper 
was borne to my ears, and, in a quaking bog 
where footing was most uncertain, I found 
this charming bird indulging repeatedly in 
the nuptial song. He would rise on whirring 
wings like a mechanical toy and sail in irregu- 




wapitagun: nesting-pool of red-throated loon 




RED-THROATED LOON 
Audubon Plate 



WAPITAGUN 

lar circles twenty to fifty yards above the bog 
with wings curved downwards and backwards, 
emitting at frequent intervals a short trill al- 
most as finely drawn as that of a cricket. He 
was in the air for five minutes by the watch 
and continued to trill after he had reached 
the ground. Here he was at once obliterated, 
for his streaked brown back was next to in- 
visible in the bog. He continued trilling as 
long as I was within earshot, and he even fol- 
lowed me, repeating his simple song. 

The botanist and I met by appointment on 
the shore and were picked up by the Sea Star 
and carried as through a rock-lined river to the 
favorite harbor of the captain's father. Black 
guillemots and razor-billed auks fluttered here 
and there and everywhere as we sailed along. 
The harbor was opposite Matchiatik Island, 
where, some years ago, in a calm with a heavy 
sea a schooner nearly came to grief on the 
rocks. The men, thinking she would pound 
herself to pieces, jumped ashore. No sooner 
were they in safety than a puff of wind came 
and their deserted schooner sailed off, but 
was fortunately captured by a friendly vessel 
and returned to the crew. 
1^ 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

We had had an exciting day, so crowded 
with interesting episodes that it seemed a 
week since we had successfully broken away 
at three that morning from the storm-bound 
harbor of Old Romaine. 



CHAPTER VI 

AS FAR AS DR. GRENFELL's HOSPITAL AT 
HARRINGTON 

AFTER ten hours' sleep in clear, cool air on 
balsam boughs spread on deck, and after 
the dash of the eye-opening bucket of sea- 
water, we were fit for whatever the day should 
bring forth. Our first objective point, while 
the morning breeze was gathering strength, 
was the protecting harbor island of Matchia- 
tik.^ Here, so the captain told us, Jean-Bap- 
tiste Galibois narrowly escaped disaster forty 
years ago in attempting to make our harbor 
in a storm, a storm that sank six schooners 
and drowned many brave men. Jean-Baptiste's 
vessel miraculously escaped the rocks, passed 
through the narrow and turbulent passage, 
and rode in safety in the quiet anchorage of 
the little harbor. Out of gratitude for his de- 
liverance he erected on Matchiatik Island a 
large wooden cross, which has served all these 

^ This name is wrongly given on the charts to an island 
several miles to the northeast. 

127 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

years as a sacred memorial of the event, and 
as a beacon to voyagers along the coast. It 
had fallen down, but the captain and William 
put it back in place and braced it with tim- 
bers and great rocks. I trust that this pious 
service will atone for the slaughter by William 
the Pirate of two young great black-backed 
gulls, but the crime rests heavy on my con- 
science and I confess that I noted in my jour- 
nal my enjoyment of the delicacy of their fla- 
vor. How easy it is to revert to the savage! 
For my own justification I will add that, with 
the exception of these and two other victims, 
I permitted no birds to be killed for food alone 
on this expedition, but we used for food those 
whose skins I preserved for scientific purposes. 
This, as I have explained elsewhere, is an in- 
teresting exception to the rule that "one can- 
not eat his cake and have it too." 

What views of gray rocky islands and spar- 
kling blue waters, and again rocky islands and 
blue waters — all tumbled about in wild con- 
fusion — all alike yet all different ! With the 
exception of the great weather-beaten cross, 
■ — symbol that means so much, — all, both 
water and rocks, were destitute of any trace 

128 



AS FAR AS HARRINGTON 

of man. It is good for the soul to escape to a 
wilderness like this, especially in these terrible 
days of world carnage, and I rejoiced in the 
mere fact that I was alive, and noted in my 
journal, "This is the life!" Captain Hearn of 
the Cascapedia was partly right, but an occa- 
sional sojourn in a wilderness enables one also 
to endure and be happy in the crowded city. 

Pipits wagged their tails and walked nerv- 
ously over the ledges, homed larks rose into 
the air to pour out their morning song of 
thankfulness, auks and sea-pigeons popped 
out of unexpected clefts in the rocks and 
joined their companions at a safe distance on 
the waves, — all this the botanist and I saw 
as each on his special mission explored the 
island. But we were no narrow specialists, and 
on this occasion I happened on a botanical 
specimen which surprised the botanist. It 
was a pinguicula, a blue flower rising from a 
tuft of leaves and looking superficially like a 
violet. The leaves, narrow and pale green, curl 
at the edges and secrete a sticky fluid which 
attracts and catches minute insects. It is, in 
fact, like the sundew, an insectivorous plant. 
The botanist had found it abundant on the 
129 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

limestone Mingan Islands, and expressed mild 
scientific skepticism when I told him I had 
found it in former years on Battle Island and 
other granitic and gneissoid lands. Plants as 
well as animals do not always obey the rules. 
I wonder whether Audubon mistook this flower 
for a violet; he says: "A beautiful species of 
violet was found, and I have transplanted sev- 
eral for Lucy, but it is doubtful if they will 
survive the journey." 

The pipit is worth more than passing men- 
tion. Like the horned lark it is a bird of the 
barren Arctic Zone. Its trig form and Quaker- 
gray and brown plumage, its dovelike nods 
in walking, and its habit of wagging the tail 
— all make it attractive. Like the horned lark 
it sings in the air, but a different refrain and 
delivered in a different way. It sings as it 
flies up obliquely to a height of perhaps two 
hundred feet, then it turns and descends with 
great speed, singing as it goes. The song is 
simple, a loud che-whee, with a vibratory res- 
onance on the whee. On one occasion I saw a 
male alight near his mate and flutter his wings 
excitedly; at the same time he repeated his song 
so rapidly that it merged into one refrain. 
130 



AS FAR AS HARRINGTON 

The Sea Star did well In the light airs and 
head sea, and I had a chance to think over the 
crowded events of the day before. At noon 
we were five or six miles au large and the 
captain was taking soundings near some 
unmarked shoals. St. Mary's Island with its 
lighthouse and bird-colonies was outside us 
and unattainable. At a protected harbor in 
one of the Galibois Islands we saw the first 
men we had seen since leaving Old Romaine. 
Picturesque fellows they were, in oilskins and 
large sou'westers — one wore a carmine tam- 
o'-shanter. They were visiting their cod-traps 
in stanch boats. Birds were scarce in this 
region, for fishermen, alas, do not live wholly 
by fish. Yankee Harbor, on the other side of 
these islands, is also a favorite harbor for fish- 
ermen. 

We were fortunate in reaching the little 
protected harbor of Seal-Net Point or Pointe 
au Maurier that night. Here, in a house 
painted yellow with a brown roof, lived Joe 
Galibois, a gray-bearded old man whose 
father doubtless was living there in Audu- 
bon's day, for his is one of the oldest families 
on the coast. Joe had lived here for fifty-seven 
131 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

years and his nearest neighbor lives three 
miles away over rock-strewn waters, but he 
was in touch with the great world, for the 
telegraph and the mail station are here. Fish, 
which means COD spelt with capitals, were 
"striking in," and all hands were busy at the 
splitting-table. Fish-heads and other refuse 
abounded; the air reeked with them and the 
dogs were fat and lazy. 

A successful season means everything to 
the Labrador fisherman. In six weeks to two 
months he may lay by enough to live in com- 
fort the rest of the year. This is his earning 
season and fisherman's luck, good or bad, 
means for him either a feast or a famine. We 
heard of a hundred quintals of fish taken in 
two days, of fifty quintals taken from one 
trap, and twenty let go free as there was no 
more room in the boats. A quintal (pronounced 
kentle) is one hundred and twelve pounds of 
dried salt fish, and is worth on the coast five 
dollars. About one hundred and twenty- 
five three-pound cod are needed to make up a 
quintal. After a short successful season the 
fisherman lays in a stock of essentials — flour 
and pork and molasses — and as many luxu- 
132 




CLEANING FISH AT SEAL-NET POINT, OR POINTE AU MAURIER 




NEAR THE SUMMIT OF LITTLE MECATTINA : POISED BOULDERS 



AS FAR AS HARRINGTON 

ries as he can afford, retires to his winter house 
at the head of some protected bay, and settles 
down to a long winter season of comparative 
leisure. He traps, — and there is always the 
lure of a black fox and riches, — he cuts wood, 
and visits his neighbors. Winter traveling 
over the ice on komatiks, or dog-sledges, with 
a good team of seven or eight dogs rapidly 
shortens a forty-mile space between him and 
a neighbor. Latchstrings are always hanging 
out, and the unexpected arrival of a whole 
family to spend several days or a week is 
taken as a matter of course, and every hos- 
pitality possible is dispensed. Sometimes the 
appearance of the stove and larder shows in 
the morning that a traveler in a hurry had 
availed himself of the customary hospitality 
of the country during the night, and had gone 
his way without a word. I asked a number of 
men along the coast how they liked the win- 
ter, and their eyes sparkled as they spoke of 
its pleasures. Spring and fall they shoot mi- 
grating ducks and net and shoot seals, and 
before the cod strike in, some of them net 
salmon, for which privilege they pay the Gov- 
ernment a tax of three cents a fathom of net. 
133 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

It Is a sporting life and develops independence 
and strength of character; Labrador is no 
place for weaklings. 

It is well to mention this bright side of the 
picture, for, as the fisheries fail more and more 
from year to year, one hears only of Insufh- 
cient clothing and scanty food, of scurvy and 
beri-berl, of slow starvation and death, until 
some think this is the universal condition on 
the Labrador coast and that each village is 

"A hungry village by a hungry sea, 
As worn and gray as any Calvary!" 

It has even been urged that the people be 
all transported to more favorable regions. The 
fact is, there is poverty everywhere, especially 
among the ignorant, but after all "there is no 
place like home," and a love of one's native 
land is possessed by all. As I have just shown, 
life in Labrador may be extremely pleasant, 
and with sufficient food and clothing no one 
minds the winter. Captain Cartwrlght wrote 
that he was often chilly in England, but never 
in Labrador, and my Belgian friend has con- 
firmed this. I believe that through conser- 
vation and education the life of the Labra- 
134 



AS FAR AS HARRINGTON 

dorians will become more and more desirable. 
I asked William and Ernest where they would 
prefer to live if they had plenty of money and 
could choose, and they both said, "On the 
coast.'' 

"The shudd'ring tenant of the frigid zone 
Boldly proclaims that happiest spot his own; 
Extols the treasures of his stormy seas, 
And his long nights of revelry and ease." 

Barren and bleak was Seal-Net Point, and 
on the second day fog and rain and storm 
rolled in from the Gulf, so that the Sea Star 
pitched and tugged at her anchor-chains, yet 
these two days were not grudged by us. In 
the first place, the botanist found plenty of 
pinguiculas and many other arctic plants 
which cheered his heart, while I was so thrilled 
by finding on the first day the breeding-place 
of ring-billed gulls that I was buoyed tip by 
the memory during the succeeding storm, and 
the odor of fish that hung about the little 
harbor was as incense in my nostrils. 

The ring-billed gull is about two thirds the 
size of a herring gull, but wears very similar 
plumage. It breeds commonly in British Co- 
lumbia and in the northwestern part of the 
135 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

United States, but Audubon in 1833 found 
it breeding in Labrador. There is some con- 
fusion about it, however, and it is probable 
that the European mew gull, which he also re- 
ported as breeding, was in reality this species. 
Frazar in 1884 found a few moderate-sized 
colonies of the ring-billed gull in the vicinity 
of Cape Whittle. Aside from these records 
very little is known of this interesting bird in 
Labrador, and my delight at finding a breed- 
ing-place may be imagined. 

Off Grand Romaine I first saw a group of 
these birds, and Captain Joncas at once recog- 
nized them and called them mauves. Near 
Pointe au Maurier was one of the very numer- 
ous lies des Goelands, or Gull Islands, and I saw 
ring-billed gulls flying over our little harbor 
on their way to and from this spot. Galibois 
called the island his poulailler, or poultry-yard, 
where for many years he had obtained every 
spring a supply of fresh eggs for the table. The 
birds had not been disturbed in any way after 
the first eggs were taken; they laid a second 
set and brought up their families in peace, so 
that their numbers had increased rather than 
diminished. 

136 



AS FAR AS HARRINGTON 

We rowed over to the island the next morn- 
ing and were greeted by a chorus of protests 
as about four hundred of these beautiful white 
birds rose into the air. They remained above 
our heads and protested so violently that I 
felt extremely guilty and worked as rapidly 
as possible, taking photographs of nests and 
eggs and young and recording my notes. I 
suppose the gulls took us for Newfoundland 
fishermen, and I pictured to myself their sur- 
prise and joy on finding that we had taken so 
little toll and had not wreaked the usual fish- 
erman's destruction. 

The nests, thickly scattered among the 
rocks and vegetation, were made up of neatly 
arranged dried grass and weed-stalks and moss 
and feathers. They contained one, two, or 
three chocolate-colored or bluish eggs more or 
less thickly spotted and scrawled with brown. 
Some of the nests contained downy young, 
gray and spotted. Many were empty and the 
young were concealed in the grass or well pro- 
tected by their coloration among the rocks. 
That was, indeed, a red-letter day, and Audu- 
bon's spirit must have rejoiced with me. 

After the survey of this precious island, — - 
137 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

and may it always have as good a keeper as 
old Joe Galibois! — ^we explored the island- 
crowded bays leading up to the outlet of the 
Darby River. Windlasses on favorable points 
showed where nets were stretched to catch 
the seals returning from the bay. The seal- 
netting season extends from the middle of 
November until the last of December, but of 
late years this, like the other harvests of the 
sea on the Labrador coast, has fallen of(. From 
time to time in our summer voyage we saw 
a seal stick his head above the water and 
gaze open-eyed at our boat; but they were far 
from abundant and nearly all harbor seals, a 
species still common in places on the New Eng- 
land coast. People here call them loup-marin 
d' esprit, while the larger harp seal, the seal of 
the Newfoundland Labrador, is called loup- 
marin brasseur. We saw one gray seal, called 
here the horse-head seal, a beast sometimes 
nearly twice as large as the harbor seal. 

The bay proved to be well worth exploring, 
full of steep, rounded islands and abounding 
in the two birds that can best withstand the 
assaults of the fishermen. These are the razor- 
billed auk — the tinker of the English, the 
138 



AS FAR AS HARRINGTON 

glide or godde ^ of the Acadians — and the black 
guillemot, or sea-pigeon. Both of these birds 
lay their eggs in deep crevices between rocks, 
places where the eggs and young are fairly safe. 
Gulls and eiders, which formerly abounded 
here and laid their eggs where all could see 
them, had but few representatives left, while 
murres with their confiding ways were nowhere 
to be seen. 

Razor-billed auks are amusing birds to 
watch. Like penguins they sit bolt upright 
on the rocks that have been changed in color 
from red to white by their droppings. Occa- 
sionally we saw solemn lines of them on the 
ledges, and again a group of twenty together, 
many facing each other as if they were hav- 
ing a discussion. When disturbed they flew 
about the rocks like flies and later gathered in 
crowded groups on the water. I counted fifty 
in a space perhaps fifteen feet long and three 
feet wide swimming with their rather long 
tails cocked up behind. This long tail and 
the bill shaped like a Roman nose are good 

^ Jacques Cartier used the word godez, which is perhaps 
the same word, when he referred to these birds and to murres. 
He also used the word loup-marin for seals, while the modern 
French is phoque or veau marin. 

139 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

fieldmarks in flight. The razor-billed auk lays 
a single egg on the bare rock at the bottom of 
a crevice or in the space below some fallen 
fragment. The young are strange-looking ba- 
bies, make a peeping noise, climb about actively, 
and hide in the cracks. 

Black guillemots, or sea-pigeons, were com- 
mon everywhere along the coast. At Old Ro- 
maine I had first found their downy young, 
black as soot and peeping like chickens or 
making hissing noises. Here they were abun- 
dant and the old birds fluttered ahead of us 
over the water like great black-and-white bum- 
ble-bees. As they dropped into the water with 
a splash, they elevated their black wings, 
marked with great white blotches on the out- 
side, straight up over their backs, and dis- 
played the equally striking white lining. As 
they flew by, their brilliant scarlet feet^ were 
to be seen extended behind. In one group I 
counted fifty-four birds, and I suspected that 
they were courting from the excited manner 
in which they were weaving their ways in 
and out of the assembly. I have learned that 

^ Cartwright mentions the use of the scarlet feet of these 
birds by the Indians for catching salmon, "in the same man- 
ner as we do a fly." 

140 



AS FAR AS HARRINGTON 

this " afternoon- tea " appearance among a 
group of water-birds generally means court- 
ship, so I was all attention and watched the 
group closely. Many were dipping their heads 
nervously into the water as they swam, and 
presently I saw a couple circle about each 
other as if they were doing the lady's chain. 
Their mouths were wide open and displayed 
the bright scarlet lining. Occasionally the ex- 
cited birds bobbed towards each other and 
dabbed with their bills. Their tails were 
cocked up and their red feet showed plainly 
in the water. Others performed in the same 
way and I could hear frequent hissing, whis- 
tling notes. It was no doubt the nuptial song 
and dance, the courtship of the black guille- 
mot. 

On July 1 8 we set sail for Harrington and 
drifted slowly along with the light airs. Off 
Juliet Harbor we were boarded by a fisherman 
who had rowed out for a little Sunday-morn- 
ing gossip. As he leaned from his boat on 
the gunwale of the Sea Star he told us with 
enthusiasm of his success in fishing, but he 
looked very sheepish when the captain asked 
about his three-months-old twins. Twins 

141 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

seemed to be common on the coast. His is 
the only house in Juliet Harbor, and a fine 
harbor it is, big enough to float a fleet of fish- 
ing-vessels. To the north lay the encircling 
hills and through a rift flowed a stream whose 
falls looked white as snow in the dark forest. 

As we advanced, the hills rose to a height 
of seven hundred feet a short distance from 
the shore, and were broken and faulted from 
north to south in such a way as to display ver- 
tical faces to the west. In the shelter so formed 
the trees have grown to a considerable size, 
and patches of light-green birch showed con- 
spicuously amongst the dark spruces. The red 
of rocky cliffs and the gray-and-white lichens 
on the exposed hillsides contrasted well with 
these greens. 

Near at hand a long yellow sand beach 
fringed with white breakers and backed with 
pale-green strand wheat skirted a shore that 
was broken by the mouth of the Netagamon 
River. The falls, some fifty feet high, whose 
spray rose like smoke in the black forest, in- 
vitingly called us, but we needed to take ad- 
vantage of the freshening breeze and we contin- 
ued on our way only to fall into the doldrums 

142 



AS FAE AS HARRINGTON 

of a calm. Reefs were all about us, and over 
these great seas were curling and breaking. 
The captain took pencil notes of his soundings 
from time to time, for he said, "when I put 
them in my mind they rub out"; but of this 
I saw no evidence, for he never referred to 
notes or chart and seemed to know every 
shoal. 

The breeze at last favored us, as a result 
doubtless of the persistent whistling of the 
crew, — an expedient faithfully resorted to 
by them in calms, — and we reached Har- 
rington. This Is a little fishing- village of some 
thirty families clustered on rocky islands about 
a snug harbor. We at once visited Dr. Gren- 
fell's hospital on the main island of Har- 
rington and were disappointed to find that it 
was empty of patients and physicians alike. 
Dr. Hare, after nine years of hard work here, 
had just retired to an orange farm in Flor- 
ida, and his successor, Dr. West, who came 
with us on the Cascapedia, was away visit- 
ing patients. The hospital, doctor's house, 
two churches, — Anglican and Presbyterian, — ■ 
and a dozen or so comfortable houses, besides 
fish-stages, are nestled securely under the bold 

143 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

rocky hill which rises on the north to a height 
of five or six hundred feet. On a spur above 
the hospital is a Marconi wireless station. 
Across the harbor to the south is the low-lying 
Fox Island with its cluster of homes and fish- 
houses. Opposite this to the east across a nar- 
row passage is Gull Cliff Island with its high 
cliff facing the west. Here also are about a 
dozen houses, while on Shag Island, that forms 
the southeastern barrier for the harbor, there 
appears to be only one dwelling-house. 

The hospital itself was neat, well arranged, 
and thoroughly modern in its equipments. 
The operating-room had a good light, and con- 
tained modern tables, sterilizers, and so forth. 
The wards were bright and cheerful, and each 
bed was marked with the name of the gener- 
ous supporter. The verandas arranged as sun- 
rooms opened on the south to a beautiful view 
on this lovely summer's day. I could imagine 
the wonderful prospect in winter over snow- 
and- ice-covered rock and sea, all sparkling in 
the sun. 

Harrington is the westernmost of the chain 
of hospitals established by Dr. Grenfell. One 
has but to glance at the map published in 
144 



AS FAR AS HARRINGTON 

"Among the Deep-Sea Fishers" — the official 
organ of the International Grenfell Associa- 
tion — to reahze the magnitude and variety 
of the work of this man. The headquarters of 
the mission are at St. John's, Newfoundland, 
in the King George the Fifth Seamen's In- 
stitute. This institute is one of the greatest 
blessings to all the seafaring men who ply 
along the Labrador coast. The chief hospi- 
tal is at St. Anthony in the northern part of 
the island of Newfoundland. Here are seven 
wards, a bacteriological and pathological lab- 
oratory, an X-ray room, and a modern oper- 
ating suite. Dr. John Mason Little, Jr., who 
came for a summer, remained in charge ten 
years. At St. Anthony there is also an or- 
phanage for twenty-five children, and an in- 
dustrial house, which contains a carpenter- 
and-machine-shop, a pottery-kiln, and a room 
for spinning and weaving. There Is also a 
mission school and a guest-house for volunteer 
workers. Fortunate Is the college student who 
spends a summer working for the mission, be- 
cause he realizes as never before the joy of 
service. The effect on his character must be a 
lasting one for good. Besides college students, 

145 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

well-known specialists in various branches of 
medicine and surgery have from time to time 
given their services to the mission. There is 
also a cooperative store at St. Anthony, now 
known as the "Spot-Cash Cooperative Com- 
pany, Ltd.," and another farther north at 
Cape Bauld and one at Flower's Cove. There 
is a school at Carrol's, a sawmill and agricul- 
tural station at Roddickton, and a hospital at 
Pilley's Island. > 

On the Labrador Peninsula, besides the 
hospital at Harrington, there is one at Battle 
Harbor and one at Mud Lake near the head 
of Hamilton Inlet, and a summer hospital at 
Indian Harbor. Then there are cooperative 
stores at West St. Modiste, Red Bay, Spotted 
Island, West Bay, and Paul's Island, a winter 
station for Battle Harbor at St. Lewis Inlet, 
industrial stations at Red Bay and Battle 
Harbor, a school and dispensary at Spotted 
Island, and a small store at Adiavic. Finally 
there is a ''Mission Fleet." The good hospital 
ship Strathcona continues to float and work 
notwithstanding the perilous ice, rocks, and 
storms. The George B. Cluett is an auxiliary 
three-masted schooner, the Amber Jack is an 

146 



PH 


■ 


^^^^^^^2^^^^;^^;S^2 




■■■■■1 


■Hi 



HARRINGTON 

The Hospital is the large building in the center 




OUR FRIENDS THE ESKIMO PUPPIES AND THEIR MOTHER AT 
HARRINGTON 



AS FAR AS HARRINGTON 

auxiliary yawl, and there are several smaller 
motor-boats all doing good and valiant serv- 
ice. 

Dr. Grenfell's work will go on after he is 
gone, for he has imbued many workers with 
his spirit. It is doubtless at times uphill and 
thankless work, for there are always evil- 
thinkers and hostile critics of good works. In 
this age of the mailed fist, when spiritual 
things seem as naught, the Christlike spirit 
of the work is refreshing. A poor lad with a 
diseased hip-bone, who had lain in bed a year, 
said to Dr. Grenfell, " Doctor, how can I do 
anything for others?" To which he replied, 
"Why, look cheerful, and be grateful, and purr 
when you are pleased. Cheer the doctor and 
the nurse, and the man in the next bed. That 's 
what Christ would do. Go and do likewise." 

Our climb to the top of the island was en- 
livened by the affectionate companionship of 
four white Eskimo puppies, who, with their 
dark-haired mother, had greeted us outside 
the hospital. They were full of spirits and 
always ready to romp, and when we tired of 
their play they would gambol over their 
mother until she sedately and sternly quieted 
147 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

them. The Eskimo dog is as gentle and affec- 
tionate and as fond of human companionship 
as any dog when properly treated. My experi- 
ence here at Harrington and elsewhere bears 
this out. At Battle Harbor I once enjoyed the 
friendship of one of Dr. Grenf ell's dogs and 
found him as intelligent, trustworthy, and 
lovable as any well-brought-up canine. The 
vast majority of Eskimo dogs in Labrador are, 
however, savage and treacherous, and unless 
this is borne in mind it is dangerous to go 
among them. There are numerous instances 
of these dogs turning on men and children 
who had fallen down among them, and tear- 
ing them, sometimes fatally. If one dog 
springs at a human being, all the other dogs 
of the pack are incited to follow suit. A bold 
front, care not to trip and fall, and the use of a 
stout staff or a large stone will keep the dogs at 
a distance. Strangers from ignorance are gen- 
erally less watchful of the dogs than are the 
natives. The reasons for this savage dispo- 
sition are not far to seek. In winter the dogs 
are generally insufficiently fed, and worked 
hard and abused. In summer they are gener- 
ally not fed at all, but are left to pick up 
148 



AS FAR AS HARRINGTON 

their own living. This they obtain from the 
fish refuse and at the expense of the birds 
nesting along the shore. At all times they 
are kicked and cuffed and are never kindly 
spoken to or affectionately treated. That they 
respond favorably to kind treatment the ex- 
ceptions just given show, and these exceptions 
prove the rule that dog-nature is essentially 
a lovable one and faithful to mankind. 

The dog question is certainly a difficult 
one, however. The animals are at present 
essential during the long winter season. With- 
out them transportation over long distances 
would be impossible; they are the only beasts 
of burden on the Labrador coast, but they 
impose many burdens on the inhabitants 
besides the question of their food and their 
dangerous nature. The Labradorlan is unable 
to grow even the few vegetables the climate 
allows unless he fences in his garden from the 
dogs with a strong and high fence. Poultry, 
pigs, goats, or cows, all of which might other- 
wise be kept, cannot survive unless, as at 
Natashquan, the dogs are imprisoned in stout 
stockades or kept chained. Some day it is to 
be hoped that the reindeer, which Dr. Gren- 
149 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

fell has introduced in northern Newfoundland 
and which have proved so useful in Alaska, 
will take the place of the dogs in Labrador. 
The original herd of three hundred reindeer 
brought to Newfoundland from Lapland in 
1908 has now increased to one of twelve hun- 
dred. There is an abundance of food for the 
animals in Labrador, and it is a food they can 
procure for themselves, for the reindeer, like 
his near relative the caribou, thrives on lichens 
and mosses. The reindeer will do the work of 
dogs, and much more. As Dr. Grenfell has 
expressed it, the reindeer will bring "milk for 
babies, meat for men, transport for mails, free- 
dom from dogs, possibilities of gardens and 
domestic feasts, warm clothes for winter, and 
many other blessings to the people of our 
coast." The Eskimo dog is the chief obstacle 
in the way of the introduction of the rein- 
deer, and may prove a fatal one. 

From the top of the hill we had an extensive 
view on all sides. Below to the south and 
fringing the harbor lay the little fishing-vil- 
lage, and beyond the islands the sea spotted 
with foaming reefs. To the east across a 
stretch of water loomed the high and rugged 
150 



AS FAR AS HARRINGTON 

land of Little Mecattina; inland was a maze 
of low-lying land and water with higher land 
beyond; towards the setting sun more water, 
small islands, and an immense flat coastal 
plain, a boggy, barren land. We descended 
through a valley whence the snow had evi- 
dently just gone, as was shown by the brown 
and dead vegetation of the previous summer 
and by the fresh buds of the spring vegeta- 
tion. Alders were hanging out their yellow 
catkins and some of their leaves were just 
unfolding, although close beside them other 
alders had long since passed the stage of these 
early activities. 

It was rather a relief to find the people all 
speaking English here, although I could not 
help noticing the lack of polite greetings with 
which we were familiar among the French 
inhabitants of the coast. One boy addressed 
us with the remark, "Some 'ot, hey?" and 
they were all complaining of the heat. My 
thermometer registered 65°, but it was said 
that at Sam Cox's house, where there was a 
thermometer, the mercury had reached 72°, 
and many had come to look at it. Part of their 
sufferings may have been due to the fact that 

151 



IN AUDUBON'S LABEADOR 

they were all in their Sunday best, and aii 
English Sunday is proverbially oppressive. 

That evening we were lulled to sleep on the 
deck of our little schooner by the mournful 
chorus of the howling of Eskimo dogs, a chorus 
that was taken up by one group after another 
in the village. It is a weird sound and sug- 
gests the rush of winds through rocks and 
crags, wolf-packs on dreary Arctic wastes, and 
Eskimo snow villages in the remote North. It 
is a crude, primeval sort of music, not without 
a certain wild charm and beauty. 



CHAPTER VII 

LITTLE MECATTINA ISLAND AND 
MUTTON BAY 

FROM Harrington Harbor we sailed directly 
towards the sun, which was rising out of 
a mass of purple clouds edged with rose. Be- 
low them lay the mountainous island of Lit- 
tle Mecattina, which, looking like a series of 
rocky waves advancing towards the Gulf, 
loomed in the distance. The island was won- 
derfully beautiful in the purple morning shad- 
ows, but stern and forbidding. A glorious 
luminous haze was all about us as we bowled 
steadily along with all sails set. The westerly 
wind had been quieting the waves during the 
night, but there was so much sea left that 
we were thankful the captain had decided to 
spend the previous night in a secure harbor 
and not push on. Audubon had sailed from 
Wapltagun directly across to Little Mecat- 
tina, losing all the Intervening interesting land 
and islands, and for two days and a night was 
subjected to the discomforts of seasickness. 
153 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

As we approached the island and passed 
Cross Harbor at the western end, where a 
schooner was sheltered behind the rocks, we 
did not wonder that Audubon's pilot was in 
doubt as to the opening of the "bowl," as he 
called it, or Hare Harbor, into which the 
Ripley finally blundered, for it was nowhere to 
be seen. The shore was bold and rocky with 
here and there a cove and pebbly beach. 
These beaches extend back into the land with 
or without intermissions of vegetation, — 
green bands in the gray, — far up above the 
reach of any ordinary, or extraordinary, storm. 
These, of course, were examples of raised 
beaches, of which there are so many in Labra- 
dor, attesting the movement of the land in 
elevation. To Audubon they were a mystery ; 
he writes: "On rambling about the shores of 
the numerous bays and inlets of this coast, 
you cannot but observe immense beds of 
round stones of all sizes, some of very large 
dimensions rolled side by side and piled one 
upon another many deep, cast there by some 
great force of nature. I have seen many such 
places and never without astonishment and 
awe. If those great boulders are brought from 

154> 



LITTLE MECATTINA AND MUTTON BAY 

the bottom of the sea, and cast hundreds of 
yards on shore, this will give some idea of what 
a gale on the coast of Labrador can be, and 
what the force of the waves." In another place 
he says: "These stones I now think are prob- 
ably brought on shore in the masses of ice 
during the winter storms. These icebergs, then 
melting and breaking up, leave these enor- 
mous pebble-shaped stones, from ten to one 
hundred feet deep." 

When I landed my first pilgrimage was to 
one of these beaches. At the water's edge and 
for some yards back the beach pebbles, cobble- 
stone size, were round and smooth, kept so 
by the wash of the waves and by grinding and 
polishing against one another. Higher up they 
lost their natural red color and were painted 
gray by the lichens; this color gradually 
merged into green as mosses replaced lichens, 
while, higher up still, spruces and firs, laurels, 
curlew-berry, Labrador-tea, and all the other 
low-growing arctic plants had thoroughly 
concealed the beach now raised fifty feet or 
more above the sea. It was interesting to 
notice a slight roughening of the surface of 
the rock on which the lichens were growing. 

155 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

Higher up the surface crust for a quarter of 
an ifich or so was soft and crumbling, while, 
where the vegetation was luxuriant, many of 
the pebbles had entirely lost their shape, and 
others were split into many pieces by the frost 
entering cracks wedged apart by plant-growth. 
In this way vegetation aided by frost changes 
even polished crystalline rocks into soil suit- 
able for plant-food. 

"You could not have happened in better 
weather," said the captain as the sea quieted 
down under the lee of the shore and we en- 
tered the mouth of the harbor, sailed through 
the narrows, and beat up to the head of the 
wonderful rock-enclosed bowl. The water was 
so deep that we were almost on shore be- 
fore we could anchor. In this quiet harbor 
five or six schooners, Newfoundland fisher- 
men, had taken refuge, but there were no 
signs of human habitation on the shore. It 
was as deserted as in Audubon's day. 

As we had started early from Harrington, 
it was only half-past seven in the morning 
when we landed, and for five glorious hours 
we scrambled about the rocky mountains that 
surrounded the bowl. Heights are deceptive, 

156 



LITTLE MECATTINA AND MUTTON BAY 

and Audubon was so impressed by the scene 
that he exaggerated the height of the rocks. 
He says, "Our harbor is the very represen- 
tative of the bottom of a large bowl, in the 
centre of which our vessel is now safely at 
anchor, surrounded by rocks fully a thousand 
feet high, and the wildest-looking place I ever 
was in." According to the chart, the highest 
peaks, a little way back from the harbor, have 
an elevation of five hundred and seventy feet, 
and it is probable that the rocky precipices 
that rise directly from the water reach a height 
of only two or three hundred feet. They are 
splendid rocks, however, and full of crannies 
and shelves. A pair of ravens were croaking 
and sailing about, and on the grassy beach 
at the head of the harbor four full-grown 
young were feeding. They were probably 
lineal descendants of the birds seen by Audu- 
bon. Above this beach a clear cold brook led 
from a lake, above which was a narrow for- 
ested valley, thick and impenetrable, in which 
I could hear the rushing of a brook. What 
unnumbered centuries it must have taken to 
make even a feeble grove on these adaman- 
tine rocks! A black-poll warbler was singing, 
157 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

occasionally a yellow-bellied flycatcher ejacu- 
lated je-let, and a pipit on the Arctic borders 
of this Hudsonian island walked about and 
wagged his tail. Doubtless a ruby-crowned 
kinglet, as in Audubon's time, was concealed 
in the thicket, but he was silent; his season of 
wonderful song had passed. Above this val- 
ley was another lake and another summit be- 
yond. From here there was an extensive view 
over a desolate region, or, in Audubon's words, 
''nothing but rocks — barren rocks — wild as 
the wildest of the Apennines everywhere." 
Rocky hills, lakes in islands, and islands in 
lakes. The red line of rock surface at the 
water's edge showed the salt-water inlet; the 
lichens and green plants extending to the 
water's edge showed the fresh -water lakes; 
otherwise they could not be distinguished. 

Within fifty or seventy-five feet of the sum- 
mit boulders, large and small, were lying about 
where they were left by the receding ice of 
the last glacial period; below that there were 
no poised boulders to be seen, they had all 
been washed into hollows by the waves during 
the period of submersion. The line between 
the two regions was sharply drawn. Profes- 
158 




THE SEA STAR IN HARE HARBOR, LITTLE MECATTINA 
ISLAND 



LITTLE MECATTINA AND MUTTON BAY 

sor Reginald Daly * found at Ice Tickle, on 
the eastern Labrador coast, that poised boul- 
ders occurred only above the 265-foot con- 
tour-line, while at Hopedale the highest shore- 
line was at 390 feet. 

Many of the rock-surfaces at the summit 
were nearly as smooth and polished as when 
they were left by the ice, and they showed 
well the scratches and grooves made by the 
glaciers. These scratches radiate from the 
center of glaciation in the middle of the penin- 
sula. I kept note of their compass direction 
in different places as I went east and found 
them to vary as regards true north from south 
3° west to south 35° east. The variation of 
the compass at Natashquan is about 30° to 
the west of north. I crossed a deep gorge on 
the tops of gnarled and twisted alders and 
spruces, a brook babbling unseen below me, 
and slid down steep slopes in the slippery 
mosses, as Audubon had done in the same place 
eighty- three years before. It was all good 
exercise and very exhilarating in the clear 

^ The Geology of the Northeast Coast of Labrador, Bulletin 
Museum of Comparative Zoology, Harvard College, vol. 
xxxvm (1902), p. 255. 

159 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

air, so cold that the captain had called for his 
mittens as he was beating up the harbor. A 
brief plunge into the sea and a quick spramble 
back removed all sense of fatigue. 

Ernest was alone on board quietly cooking 
the dinner when something made him look 
out of the galley and he found that the Sea 
Star had dragged her anchor from the bottom 
into deeper water. He hastily let out more 
cable and prevented her putting to sea pre- 
maturely. When we did get off the sea was 
running high, lashed by a strong southwest 
wind, and we passed out of the harbor under 
a jib and reefed foresail for our thirty-three 
miles' run for Mutton Bay. We soon passed 
lie de la Providence, a smooth, red rock where 
a bleak, weather-beaten church stood out 
prominently on the ridge. This is the guiding 
star of the inhabitants, some fifteen or twenty 
families, who are scattered about in the archi- 
pelago of the Head of the Whale, TUe-cL-la- 
Baleine de Quest. It is the Mission of St. 
Anne, formerly St. Magloire, and was built 
with much labor and sacrifice through the 
zeal of the Abbe Theberge in 1894. Huard 
says, "Bad weather, most furious winds, — 
160 



LITTLE MECATTINA AND MUTTON BAY 

nothing prevents the people, if only there is a 
priest to preside at the religious offices, com- 
ing with their wives and children in their fish- 
ing-boats to the Chapel. When they go au 
large for the fish or when they return, the 
sight of their chapel surmounted by its pretty 
tower fills them with joy." The island is so 
rocky that there is no soil in which those that 
die can be buried, and the cemetery is situated 
on the island of Kenty or the Tete d la Baleine, 
another smooth red rock which pushes out into 
the sea like a great whale's head. Huard 
quotes from the Abbe Gagnon, who says, "If 
the voyage to the isle of Kenty became im- 
practicable, one must refrain from dying under 
penalty of being buried much later and almost 
without regret; this prospect suffices, it ap- 
pears, to keep everybody alive." Another cu- 
rious circumstance about this mission is that 
all of the inhabitants retire to their winter 
houses three miles inland after the fishing- 
season, and the greater part of the year must 
be spent, as in the case of the Indians, with- 
out spiritual succor. Father Hesry, of Long 
Point, Blanc Sablon, about one hundred and 
fifty miles to the eastward, is the spiritual 

161 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

adviser for this little mission of St. Anne, and 
his visits are necessarily few. 

The sheets of white foam ran rapidly up 
the smooth red sides of the whale's head, and 
slowly sank back again as we drove on before 
the freshening wind. Foaming reefs appeared 
on all sides, but the captain knew them all 
and they had no terrors for us. A couple of 
fishing-schooners were sheltered close to the 
head and a half-dozen small houses clung pre- 
cariously to its sides just above the water's 
edge. As we passed Nadeau Island, a round 
rock with a steep cliff, the captain pointed out 
the house of the man who had put by six thou- 
sand dollars in the bank, as a result of his life- 
work in fishing. Dying a bachelor, he had left 
this money — a fortune in these regions — to 
his nephew. 

As the wind increased to half a gale we low- 
ered our jib and, with only a reefed foresail, 
scudded across the intervening eight miles to 
Cape Mecattina. It was not exactly "under 
bare poles," but it came very near to it. Great 
green seas with white crests rose up behind us 
as if about to engulf our little schooner and 
surged along beside us, but the Sea Star, under 

169 



LITTLE MECATTINA AND MUTTON BAY 

the skillful management of Captain Joncas, 
rode them like a duck and kept her decks dry. 
Not only were the waves and the wind behind 
us, but also the sun, and, when the waves shut 
out its direct rays, the clear, transparent water 
sparkled with a wonderful green brilliancy. 
All too soon we reached Cape Mecattina with 
its rocky heights patched in places with snow, 
and passed into the shelter of Mutton Bay. 
This prosaically named place was the Baie de 
Portage — so called on account of an ancient 
Indian portage — into which Audubon in the 
Ripley entered on July 21, 1833. We were 
three days ahead of him in the calendar, and, 
while the Ripley, before "a stiff northwest 
breeze," had sailed from the harbor at Little 
Mecattina Island in five hours, we had scudded 
across in three. It seems too bad to race with 
Audubon, but I think he would have enjoyed 
it. I know Ingalls and Shattuck and Tom Lin- 
coln and Coolidge and young John Woodhouse 
would have considered it great larks! 

The derivation of the present name of the 
bay is uncertain, as there are no sheep there 
and probably never have been. The botanist 
suggested that it might have been named from 

163 



m AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

the fleecy aspect of the waves and their choppy 
character. I dare say some sea-captain pre- 
sented another with a leg of mutton here, and 
the bay was named for this important and 
savory happening. 

Under a protecting cHfif, over which tum- 
bled a waterfall that, like the Staubbach in 
the valley of Lauterbrunnen, was blown into 
dust and spray, lay the little village of Mutton 
Bay. There are about twenty families here, 
all, with one or two exceptions, Protestants 
from Newfoundland. The houses are of all col- 
ors, — yellow, pink, lilac, brown, and red, — and 
there is a Church of l^ngland chapel. Huard 
says the inhabitants desire to make the place 
the capital of southern Labrador, and that the 
village, compared with the other villages of the 
coast, "est d'apparence vraiment coquette." 

I was soon ashore and at the telegraph- 
ofhce, where I found my old friend M. Charles 
Vignot, of Natashquan. His little grandchild 
sat on my knee and sang very correctly, and 
with a charming French accent, "Old Black 
Joe." It served to dissipate the gloom caused 
by the bad war news that ticked over the tele- 
graph. Near the top of the rocky pass close 
164 



LITTLE MECATTINA AND MUTTON BAY 

to the "Staubbach" the wind was blowing so 
strongly that I could scarcely stand against 
it. The captain afterwards remarked, "Still 
some wind left — we did not use it all." From 
the pass a large patch of snow beyond looked 
like a glacier creeping down the hillside. It 
was marked by a deep crevasse, and from 
under an arch at the lower end a brook issued. 
All vegetation was as dead as winter about it. 
We were catching up with the spring as we 
went east and north. 



CHAPTER VIII 

THROUGH THE PETITE RIGOLET TO THE 
ST. AUGUSTINE RIVER 

ON July 22, 1833, Audubon went in a 
small boat from Baie de Portage, where 
the Ripley lay at anchor, to a harbor a mile 
to the eastward, where an island shut off the 
sea to the south, and high hills kept off the 
northern winds. Here he found a French Cana- 
dian, a seal-catcher, who entertained him with 
an account of his work in netting seals, trap- 
ping foxes, and shooting bears, wolves, and 
caribou. This was Big Mecattina Harbor, and 
Audubon says in his "Episode" on "The 
Squatters of Labrador": "Pierre Jean-Bap- 
tiste Michaux had resided in that part of the 
world for upwards of ten years. He had run 
away from the fishing-smack that had brought 
him from his fair native land, and expected 
to become rich some day by the sale of the 
furs. Seal-skins, eider-down, and other articles, 
which he collected yearly, and sold to the 
traders who regularly visited his dreary abode. 
166 



THROUGH THE PETITE RIGOLET 

He was of moderate stature, firmly framed, 
and as active as a Wild Cat. He told that ex- 
cepting the loss of his rum, he had never ex- 
perienced any other cause of sorrow, and that 
he felt as 'happy as a lord.' " 

His grandson, Leander Michaux, or Michel, 
as it was given to me, the son of Frangois, a 
man of seventy years, still lives there, and we 
waved our hands to him as we sailed by. In 
a little graveyard on the hillside Audubon's 
friend lies buried. There is but little change in 
the surroundings, the same work goes on, but 
there is less animal life of all sorts than in 
Audubon's day. 

We sailed on over an emerald ocean of such 
clarity that we could see the bottom in several 
fathoms' depth. Five miles ahead of us to 
the right lay Great Mecattina Island looming 
up dark and forbidding in the early morning 
shadows. On our left we passed a bold, rocky 
shore into which entered a deep bay — La Baie/ 
Rouge de la Tabatlere. Why it should be 
called a snuff-box is rather a puzzle, but, accord- 
ing to Mgr. Boss6,^ the name should be Ta- 
baquen, or Tapatienne, which, in Montagnais 
1 Annates de la Propagation de la Foi (Quebec, 1887), p. 207. 
167 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

language, signifies sorcerer. At this point the 
Indians before departure for the interior came 
to consult the soothsayers to learn of their 
coming fortune in the chase. Deep in the 
valley, against a background of sheltered and 
sheltering spruces, was the church. Its altar is 
adorned by the skin of a polar bear shot here 
one winter a few years ago. Near at hand on 
the point — the old post — were a half-dozen 
houses. 

"July 23, 1833. We visited to-day the Seal 
establishment of a Scotchman, Samuel Rob- 
ertson, situated on what he calls Sparr Point, 
about six miles east of our anchorage [Bale 
de Portage]." I quote from Audubon's Jour- 
nal. On July 20, 1 91 5, we dropped anchor at 
Sparr Point in the well-protected harbor of 
La Tabatiere. On the rocks at the entrance 
were capstans for seal -nets, as the seal estab- 
lishment was still there. Almost no seals were 
caught last year, but the year before five or 
six hundred were secured. We were soon 
ashore at the fish-stage, for cod as well as 
seals constitute the harvest here, and, walking 
up through the multitude of Eskimo dogs, we 
were greeted by Samuel Robertson, not the 
168 




MUTTON BAY (BAIE DE PORTAGE) 




SAMUEL ROBERTSON, 3D, AND SOME OF HIS DOGS, AT 
SPARR POINT 



THROUGH THE PETITE RIGOLET 

Scotchman of Audubon's day, but his grand- 
son. The house was as neat as a pin, and its 
tall clock, a ship's barometer, and various 
ancient weapons, as well as thrifty window- 
plants, gave it an interesting and attractive 
look. While I was waiting for the old man to 
put on his best clothes, — for his wife would 
not hear of his being photographed in any- 
thing else, — the dogs, about twenty-five of 
them, engaged in a sudden fight. The uproar 
was quickly stopped by a buxom, rosy-cheeked 
lass who rushed out, seized a stick, and be- 
labored them left and right with a hearty 
good- will. A dog was killed here in a fight a 
short time ago and good Eskimo dogs are too 
valuable to throw away. Audubon records 
that Samuel the First had more than forty of 
these animals. 

Mr. Robertson soon returned our call, and 
I had the great pleasure of reading to him 
from Audubon's Journal about his grandfather. 
The Abb6 Ferland, in writing of this same en- 
terprising Scotchman, said that he attempted 
to catch whales in nets made with cables 
stretched between islands, but with the same 
success as if he had tried to catch caribou in 
169 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

spiders' webs. Nowadays they use wire nets 
to catch submarines, so the Scotchman may 
not have been so far afield. 

Audubon's account of his visit to Samuel 
Robertson, in the "Episode," is interesting. 
He says: "Several neat-looking houses enliv- 
ened the view, and on landing, we were kindly 
greeted with a polite welcome from a man 
who proved to be the owner of the establish- 
ment. For the rude simplicity of him of the 
rum-cask [Michaux] we found here the man- 
ners and dress of a man of the world. A hand- 
some fur cap covered his dark brow, his clothes 
were similar to our own, and his demeanor 
was that of a gentleman. . . . Having fol- 
lowed him to his neat and comfortable man- 
sion, he introduced us to his wife and children. 
Of the latter there were six, all robust and 
rosy. The lady, although a native of the coun- 
try, was of French extraction, handsome and 
sufficiently accomplished to make an excel- 
lent companion to a gentleman. . . . Gazing 
on the desolate country around, I asked him 
how he had thus secluded himself from the 
world. For it he had no relish, and although 
he had received a liberal education, and had 
170 



THROUGH THE PETITE RIGOLET 

mixed with society, he never intended to 
return to it. 'The country around/ said he, 
'is all my own, much farther than you can see. 
No fees, no lawyers, no taxes are here. I do 
pretty much as I choose. My means are ample 
through my own industry. These vessels come 
here for Seal-skins, Seal-oil, and salmon, and 
give me in return all the necessaries, and in- 
deed comforts, of the life I love to follow; and 
what else could the world afford me?' I spoke 
of the education of his children. 'My wife and 
I teach them all that is useful for them to 
know, and is not that enough? My girls will 
marry their countrymen, my sons the daugh- 
ters of my neighbors, and I hope all of them 
will live and die in the country!' " 

After our exchange of calls with the repre- 
sentative of this interesting family, who had 
followed his grandfather's advice, we weighed 
anchor and continued our course on one of the 
most beautiful days of the summer. It is true 
that it was hardly summer heat, for the ther- 
mometer was 49° in the morning, 57° at noon, 
S'lid 55° at night, but the sun was bright, the 
air was clear, and a gentle northwest wind 
brought us the odor of balsam firs and the 
171 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

songs of birds. The shadows of the clouds piled 
up over the high land of Great Mecattina were 
wonderfully beautiful. We sailed out past the 
Baie du Lac Sale, where the six brothers Galli- 
chou, who live in summer at Old Post, have 
their winter houses; past Ha Ha Bay with its 
fine hills; past a deep harbor, formed by a 
glacial cirque, and on into the archipelago of 
Kekarpoui. The captain suggested that these 
islands would make a good bird reservation, 
but the birds had been so decimated there 
that the name of one of the groups of rocky 
islets — Les lies Affligees — seemed most ap- 
propriate. Only a few black-backed gulls, ra- 
zor-billed auks, and black guillemots were to 
be seen. Not an eider or murre was left, but 
I have no doubt that rigid protection would 
bring all of these birds back in numbers. 

On one of the Kekarpoui Islands lived a 
Good Samaritan, an old salmon-fisherman, 
Jacques McKinnon. Whenever Jacques heard 
of any lonely body too old or infirm to work, 
he would take him to his house. He and his 
wife had ministered to several poor old dere- 
licts who had had no one to care for them, and 
had tended them faithfully until death. 
172 



THROUGH THE PETITE RIGOLET 

There Is a narrow passage between the Is- 
lands close to the old man's house, and this, 
at low tide, the Sea Star negotiated under full 
sail. So intent was the captain on escaping 
the rocks in this intricate passage that he did 
not salute the Samaritan. Indeed, we hardly 
looked at him, for It was an exciting moment 
for all on board. Ernest cried, " Keep her up ! " 
and William at the same time, "Keep her 
off!" but the captain heeded them not, and, 
from his long experience, was able to give the 
proper turns to the helm at the right moments, 
and the Sea Star glided through without a 
graze. The clear water showed our narrow 
escape from the rocks that beset us. It was 
a serious offense to sail by thus without pay- 
ing any respects to the old man, who stood 
like a statue among his Eskimo dogs with his 
back against a rock. He was a picturesque 
figure with his white bushy beard. The cap- 
tain chuckled at his success in making the 
difficult passage, and at the confusion of the 
two sailors. He would stop and make his peace 
with the Samaritan on his return. 

When Audubon sailed from La Baie de Por- 
tage at five o'clock on the morning of July 26, 

173 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

he wished to see something of the intervening 
coast, but, as the pilot knew ''nothing at all" 
of the harbors, they proceeded to Bradore Bay, 
where they came to anchor the next morning. 
He says his "mind was as troubled as the 
ocean" and that the coast is "crowded with 
islands of all sizes and forms, against which 
the raging waves break in a frightful man- 
ner." I could not but regret that such a man 
should have been hindered in his work by such 
a pilot. Our good captain sailed northeast 
straight in among the maze of islands, and, 
after a passage of five miles through a water- 
way a mile broad, turned east and entered the 
long passage between the islands and shore 
known as La Petite Rigolet. For eighteen miles 
this passage extends, and we sailed through it 
with a good wind astern. In places it was but 
a couple of hundred yards wide. One such 
place, the narrowest of all, is called Rapide 
Lessard, for here Madame Lessard, traveling 
in the winter on a dog-sledge, broke through 
the ice and was drowned; a cross on the rocks 
commemorates the tragedy. In other places 
long bays extended off to the right or left with 
deep valleys beyond, within whose sheltering 
174 




^ < 

j-H Eh 

W < 




THROUGH THE PETITE RIGOLET 

walls birches and spruces and firs grew to a 
respectable size. The hills were white with 
reindeer moss and the rocks were dark and 
rugged; no signs of human hands were any- 
where to be seen. A few great black-backed 
gulls scolded us as we passed, and three ven- 
turesome young ones swam out from a rocky 
island. A female eider occasionally flew ahead 
of us, and we passed one in a bay that seemed 
to have but one duckling in tow; the others 
were probably concealed. A raven croaked 
from some rocks and we occasionally heard 
the calls of white-crowned sparrows and black- 
poll warblers, but aside from these there was 
little of bird-life. This long passage is in most 
places fifteen to thirty fathoms deep even close 
to the shore, and if we had wished to land it 
would have been necessary, instead of anchor- 
ing, to tie to the rocks or a tree. 

Just before we emerged from this long canal- 
like passage we passed a lone salmon-fisher- 
man tending his nets. How many gulls and 
eiders and their eggs he had taken was not 
manifest, but it is to repeated and persistent 
depredations by his class that the approaching 
extinction of Labrador water-bird life is due. 

175 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

Leaving the Rigolet, which seemed to close 
in behind us and be lost in the labyrinth of 
islands, we turned northwest by Grosse lie 
and perceived in the distance beyond us the 
buildings of the Hudson's Bay Company's 
post at St. Augustine — buildings as white and 
trig as are all the outlying posts of this great 
company. We entered a big landlocked basin 
over five miles in diameter, an inland lake 
with rocky, semi-mountainous shores and no 
sign of an outlet. The story goes that a yacht- 
master, who was piloted through the Rigo- 
let to Bradore Bay, declined a pilot for the 
return, as he had takfen numerous notes of 
directions and bearings, and he prided himself 
on his good memory for places. After trying 
for several days to find the eastern end of 
the Rigolet, entering innumerable blind pas- 
sages and scraping various reefs, he gave it up 
and put to sea. 

We dropped anchor that afternoon a few 
miles below the post in one of the captain's 
many favorite harbors where the boat was as 
quiet as if she had been on shore. A salmon- 
fisherman and his wife and child and a crew 
of Eskimo dogs lived at the head of the har- 
176 



THROUGH THE PETITE RIGOLET 

bor. Their winter house — their habitation 
for nine or ten months — was at the post. 
We obtained a bucket of trout — two- and 
three-pounders — in exchange for the same 
measure of potatoes, and the botanist and I 
were off for a reconnaissance of this land un- 
known to men of our tastes and hobbies. We 
might have fished for trout, but the potatoes 
had accomplished our purpose quicker than 
artificial flies would have done, and both of 
us, although fond of fishing, were agreed that 
there is no greater sport for the naturalist than 
exploring an unknown region. We are still of 
this opinion even though the flies were so thick 
and active that existence was possible only 
with the head securely tied up in a bundle 
handkerchief. Comfort, in addition to exist- 
ence, was given from time to time by timely 
application of citronella ointment to the small 
exposed area of face. 

I spent some time at a lake among the hills 
watching two broods of golden-eye ducks with 
their mothers. One brood of five were taking 
life easily as they floated about and preened 
their miniature wings and still more diminu- 
tive tails. They paid no attention to me ; they 
177 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

had not learned to be afraid of man. The 
mother soon appeared swimming leisurely 
around a point, but, as soon as she caught sight 
of the human intruder, she uttered a warning 
note and rapidly swam away. Later, when 
I came upon this same brood, they were no 
longer unsophisticated, but dived at once and 
made off. They had been warned that I was 
dangerous. 

The St. Augustine River is one of the great 
migration-routes of the Montagnais Indians. 
By its waters and those of other rivers and 
lakes with the intervening portage-paths long 
traveled by the Indians, it is possible to cross 
the height of land and reach the shores of 
Hamilton Inlet and the North-West River 
Post. I was told that a Catholic priest with 
two Indians had reached the mouth of the St. 
Augustine River after nine days' travel from 
the North- West River Post. Indians with 
their families make the trip in fifteen days. 
Beckles Willson, in his "Life of Lord Strath- 
cona and Mount Royal," says of this great 
man, — then plain Donald Alexander Smith : 
"At the end of April, 1848, a couple of guides 
and a canoe were procured, and he ascended 
178 



THROUGH THE PETITE RIGOLET 

the St. Augustine River. After three weeks' 
travel he struck into the Grand River, crossed 
Goose Bay, and duly reported himself to Chief 
Trader William Nourse at North-West River, 
at that time the chief of the Labrador posts of 
the Company." 

Twice a year, as at Seven Islands, Mingan, 
Natashquan, and Romaine, the Indians and 
their families traverse the route to and from 
the coast. They go in in the fall and come 
out in the spring with their furs. They have 
done it since babyhood and their ancestors for 
unnumbered generations before them. What 
wonder is it that they know the way and the 
best and easiest way? The white man who 
attempts the route without the Indians' guid- 
ance is severely handicapped and makes a 
failure of it. I learned this in 191 2 on the 
Natashquan River.^ In 1890 a Canadian, Mr. 
J. G. Alwyn Creighton, ascended the St. Au- 
gustine River, hoping to cross the height of 
land to the Hamilton River. Insubordination 
of his Indian guides and a great forest fire 

1 A Short Trip into the Labrador Peninsula by Way of the 
Natashquan River, Bulletin of the Geographical Society of 
Philadelphia, vol. xi (1913), pp. 38-50. 

179 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

caused him to turn back. In 1912 Mr. Henry 
G. Bryant/ of Philadelphia, one of the few 
white men who has seen the Grand Falls of 
the Hamilton River, attempted the traverse of 
this part of the peninsula by way of the St. 
Augustine River. He and his companion, Mr. 
Russell W. Porter, had provided themselves 
with experienced canoe-men, but they espe- 
cially desired to obtain Indian guides to insure 
the success of the expedition. "Aside from the 
usual disinclination of the Indians to engage 
in systematic labor," he says, "we soon learned 
that the most serious obstacle arose from their 
unwillingness to have white men spy into the 
secrets of their country." They had no desire 
for timber mills or mining camps in their 
hunting grounds, and they are not to be 
blamed. At last, with the help of Pere Hesry, 
two young Indians were obtained who agreed 
for five dollars a day apiece to guide the 
party as far as the height of land. The expe- 
dition started in three canoes on the 12th of 
July. The Indians kept ahead out of sight in 
their lightly laden canoe, and appeared only 

* An Exploration in Southeastern Labrador, Bulletin of the 
Geographical Society of Philadelphia, vol. xi (1913), pp. 1-15. 

180 



THROUGH THE PETITE RIGOLET 

at meal-times, when their appetites were phe- 
nomenal. On the fourth day, however, the 
Indians left them, and Mr. Bryant had to 
get on without them as best he might. They 
had a rough and difficult time, a succession of 
rapids in the river with portages by the dan- 
gerous places. One of the portages was ten 
miles long. After nearly a month's travel the 
expedition reached the source of the river one 
hundred and sixty miles from the sea, and 
stood at the foot of the well-worn Indian por- 
tage up over the height of land. Ten days more 
would doubtless have brought them to the 
Hamilton River, but one of the canoe-men 
had so wrenched his knee that Bryant did not 
feel justified in proceeding, and with heavy 
hearts they were obliged to give up the under- 
taking and return. They reached the post at 
the mouth of the river on August 23. 

We had enjoyed our day but were glad to 
creep into our sleeping-bags long before the 
light had failed. In the east that evening there 
was a small piece of rainbow. The captain 
called it "the eye of the buck" and said it 
betokened wind from the same quarter in the 
morning. He was right. 



CHAPTER IX 

SHECATICA AND JACQUES CARTIER 

INSTEAD of going up the broad river to 
the post, a passage beset with shifting sand- 
bars, we set sail for Sandy Isle, or lie Bayfield, 
as we hoped to find the Indians there. It was 
like sailing through a large lake dotted with 
islands, for there was no sight of the sea. The 
captain said that thirty or forty years ago this 
region was filled with eiders that nested on 
all the shores. Constant persecution by the In- 
dians and fishermen, who take all the eggs and 
shoot the nesting birds, has produced deplor- 
able results, for, with the exception of one 
flock of nineteen migrating to the eastward, 
no eiders were to be seen. A few fishermen 
and their families live at the St. Augustine 
Post in winter, but are scattered among the 
islands in summer, and are fast destroying the 
birds. A few gulls and sea-pigeons alone sur- 
vive. 

I We landed on one of the islands, where the 

men gathered a plentiful supply of driftwood 

182 



SHECATICA AND JACQUES CARTIER 

brought down by the great river. The shore 
was fringed with strand wheat heavily loaded 
with the fruiting spikes, the hills were white 
with reindeer moss and dotted with bake- 
apple and mountain cranberries, and in the 
valleys dwarfed and distorted forest trees 
struggled for life. 

Three hours later, after a reconnaissance 
not merely ornithological and botanical, — as 
I here added considerably to my collection 
of spiders for Mr. Emerton, — we again set 
sail in the "lake" with its many islands and 
deep bays. We passed a rock that the cap- 
tain said was formerly visible above water 
only at spring tides, but that now emerged 
at every tide. Near Paul Nadeau's Island we 
opened up the Grand Rigolet, and also for 
the first time saw the sea through a narrow 

gap. 

It had been an active morning for all of us 
and the captain called out, as was his custom, 
*'Cook, cook, avez-vous des bonnes nouvelles?" 
Not long after, a loud knocking in the galley, 
repeated in a few seconds, announced the good 
news. Capelin, hot on the stove and ready at 
hand, juicy seal-steaks, potatoes, and boiled 
183 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

tender tips of beach peas, with an admirable 
grain rouge pie, were all good and proved that 
the cook was not a false prophet. 

We arrived at our anchorage at Sandy Isle 
only to find that the Indians were not there. 
Sandy Isle derives its name from the elevated 
bluffs of marine sand similar to those at vari- 
ous other places on the coast. Some of the 
ponds in the tundra had hard beaches of fine 
sand on which it was a pleasure to walk after 
struggling through the deep and spongy bog. 
A robin sang in a deep ravine bounded by 
black cliffs as cheerfully as if he had been 
singing in an orchard or among the swaying 
branches of an elm in a village street. White- 
crowned and white-throated sparrows com- 
pared notes, and a fox sparrow was in very good 
form considering the lateness of the season. 
In a reedy pool I came upon a black duck that 
fluttered and flapped her wings as if she were 
sore wounded. That it was mere pretense to 
lead me away from her young hidden in the 
reeds, I made sure, because, as I continued 
to draw near, she took to her wings and flew a 
few yards. Again she performed the wounded- 
bird act, but this time it was on the land and 
184 




SANDY ISLAND 




CUMBERLAND HEAD 



SHECATICA AND JACQUES CARTIER 

I could plainly see that she was not of the 
red-legged subspecies which breeds still far- 
ther north, but the sad bird — Anas rubripes 
tristis — of my friend Brewster. 

But it was not all sand and moss and water 
here, for there were smooth granitic ledges on 
the shore, on some of which I found and photo- 
graphed the interesting glacial markings known 
as "lunoid furrows." I had previously noticed 
them at Natashquan, at Grand Romaine, and 
at Little Mecattina. These markings were 
transverse to the direction of glaciation as 
shown by the grooves, and varied from a few 
inches to a foot or more long and extended 
about an inch into the rock. As their name 
indicates, they are crescentic in shape, and the 
convexities of the curves point in the direc- 
tion from which the glacier came. They sug- 
gest that the ice or graving tool had caught 
and hitched along, tearing out the rock. Pro- 
fessor R. A. Daly, in his paper on "The Geol- 
ogy of the Northeast Coast of Labrador," 
says :k "From a somewhat prolonged study of 
the typical examples at Hopedale, the writer 
was led to believe that these lunes were only 
potential when the ice-sheet disappeared. . . . 
185 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

The tension or shearing stress set up in the 
bed-rock by a boulder dragged along beneath 
the ice, must oftentimes be enormous. . . . 
The integrity of the rock-surface will hence- 
forth be endangered because frost can work 
upon these cracks in the same manner as 
it works on joint-planes. The actual hollows 
would thus owe their existence to the post- 
glacial splitting action of frost, prying up and 
breaking off prismatic fragments of the rock 
until these fragments had reached a thickness 
appropriate to the steep inner face of the lune." 
From our anchorage in the harbor the two 
or three houses at the bleak point looked for- 
lorn and desolate enough; there was nothing 
lovely or beautiful about them until the set- 
ting sun disguised their shabbiness and glori- 
fied the whole landscape. As the sun went 
down behind low-lying black clouds, the sky in 
the east was gradually eclipsed by the shadow 
of the land and became the darkest of blue. 
This color was well set off by the vivid Vene- 
tian-red sail of a fishing-boat whose occupants 
were returning from their day's labors. The 
sea itself was vinaceous in color with a dull 
metallic cast. Above the eastern eclipse were 
186 



SHECATICA AND JACQUES CARTIER 

layers upon layers of purple and pink clouds 
against a blue background, while a veil of 
gray mackerel clouds covered the apex of the 
vault of the heavens. To the northwest, above 
the cloud-bank where the sun was hidden, 
was a clear light-blue sky in which floated 
fleecy clouds whose colors constantly changed 
from rose-pink to dark maroon. The weather- 
beaten houses, the grim, hungry shores, the 
heaving sea, and fathomless vault of heaven 
were all transformed and enriched in the glori- 
ous luminous glow. It is Benson who speaks 
of a wonderful sunset in its effect on himself 
as an experience wholly and deeply religious: 
"And here I am but recording my own experi- 
ence when I say that the lights and gleams of 
sunset, its golden inlets and cloud-ripples, the 
dusky veil it weaves about the world, is for 
my own spirit the solemnity which effects for 
me what I believe that the mass effects for the 
devoted Catholic — the unfolding in hints and 
symbols of the mysteries of God." In another 
place he says, "But there are some idealists 
who find the sense of worship and the conscious- 
ness of an immortal power ... in the endless 
loveliness of nature, her seas and streams, her 
187 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

hills and woods." And the most impressive 
of all nature's manifestations is the sunset. 

We cruised the next morning among islands 
formerly crowded with sea-birds, but it was the 
same story: the fishermen had cleaned them all 
off. A few gulls and sea-pigeons alone eked 
out a perilous existence. The coming of the 
gasoline motor-boat, which has made travel 
among the islands so easy in the last two years, 
had put the finishing touch on these nurs- 
eries of bird-life. We passed Tommy Le Salt 
Shoals, now known as Grenfell Shoals, for Dr. 
Grenfell was the last to run on them, in the 
Strathcona. Leaving Duke's Island on our 
port, we sailed across the entrance to Cum- 
berland Harbor, passed the great rocky point 
of Cumberland Head, rising sheer from the 
water, and entered Shecatica Bay. Near the 
entrance on the left, nearly concealed behind 
the rocks, was a fisherman's house, and the 
flag of the fishing-firm of Job Brothers and 
Company, Limited, — a white square on a blue 
ground, — was flying close by. Shecatica Bay 
is a splendid broad bay embosomed in rocky 
hills, with a great open basin to the west and 
many islands on the eastern side. The only 
188 



SHECATICA AND JACQUES CARTIER 

house In the whole bay is the substantial one 
in tlie northwest corner belonging to the tele- 
graph-operator, Mr. Louis Robin. At the head 
of the bay we entered what seemed to be a 
narrow rapid river, and, sailing close to the 
rocky shore, began our voyage up Shecatica 
Inlet. I am inclined to agree with Professor 
W. F. Ganong ^ that this inlet is probably that 
to which Jacques Cartier refers as the St. 
James River, and that the harbor he named 
after himself is in reality Cumberland Harbor. 
Any one who has entered Shecatica Inlet, or 
merely passed its mouth, might easily mistake 
it for a river. The generally accepted view, 
however, is that Shecatica Inlet is Jacques 
Cartier's Harbor and it is so designated on 
maps. Ganong does not accept the idea, which 
at first sight seems plausible, that the name 
Shecatica, or Shekatika, is an Indian corrup- 
tion of Jacques Cartier. Lemoine's Diction- 
naire Frangals-Montagnais — which, however, 
is not infallible — says that the word comes 
from shikatikau, and signifies, "there are 
bushes around the water." 

^ Jacques Cartier's First Voyage, Transactions Royal Soci- 
ety of Canada, sec. ii (1887), pp. 121-36. 

189 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

Jacques Cartier on his first voyage left his 
native town, Saint-Malo, France, on April 20, 
1534. His first landfall was Bonavista, New- 
foundland, and after visiting Funk Island and 
provisioning with the great auks — think of 
the sacrilege ! — he entered the Straits of Belle 
Isle and sailed along the southern Labrador 
coast to Blanc Sablon. From the latter place 
he sailed to the Port of Brest and then to 
Jacques Cartier's Harbor, but on June 13 re- 
turned to Brest. He was so impressed with 
the number of islands along this coast that he 

A 

named the locality "Toutes lies." From Brest 
he sailed to the west coast of Newfoundland, 
and thence to the Magdalen Islands, Prince Ed- 
ward Island, the Bay of Chaleur, Gasp6, and 
Anticosti, and he finally crossed back to Cana- 
dian Labrador somewhere near Long Point, 
Mingan. Owing to the lateness of the season 
he decided to return, and, passing Natashquan 
Point, which he named Cape Thiennot after 
the Indian chief there, he reached Blanc 
Sablon on August 9 and Saint-Malo on Sep- 
tember 5. 

The original description of these discoveries 
was published in Rouen in 1598 under the title, 
190 



SHECATICA AND JACQUES CARTIER 

"Discovrs du Voyage fait par le Capitalne 
laqves Cartier aux Terres-neufes de Canadas, 
Norembergue, Hochelage, Labrador, et pays 
adiacens, dite nouuelle France, auec particu- 
lieres moeurs, langage, et ceremonies des habi- 
tans d'icelle." 

The book was republished in Paris in 1863, 
and from this I quote the parts about the 
River S, Jacques and the Port of Jacques Car- 
tier. The whole book is very quaint and full 
of interest: — 

"Plus outre a deux lieues, y a vn autre 
bon fleuue plus grand, auquel nous peschasmes 
beaucoup de Saumons, et I'appellasmes le fleuue 
de S. lacqves: . . . Nous mismes ensemble en 
vn autre port, qui est plus vers Ouest, viron 
une lieue plus outre que le susdit fleuue de 
S. lacqves, lequel i'estime estre vn des meil- 
leurs ports du monde, et fut appelle le port de 
lacqves Cartier. Si la terre correspondoit a 
la bonte des ports, ce seroit vn grand bien, 
mais on ne la doit point appeller terre, ains 
plustost cailloux et rochers sauvages, et lieux 
propres aux bestes farouches: d'autant qu'en 
toute la terre deuers le Nord, ie n'y vis pas 
tant de terre, qu'il en pourroit en vn benneau. 

191 



^ IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

. . . Et en somme ie pense que ceste terre est 
celle que Dieu donna h. Cain." ^ 

After we had passed the rapid at the outlet 
of Shecatica Inlet, the shores widened and we 
sailed as in a rock-bound lake surrounded by 
miniature mountains. Little brooks glided 
tranquilly down over smooth rocks or tumbled 
and boiled out of chasms. There were small 
sandy beaches and pockets of forests In pro- 
tected gullies. Again the water narrowed ahead 
of us and we entered the "second rapids" to 
emerge into another and larger basin over two 
miles in diameter. 

"The mountains opened wide on either hand, 
And lo ! amid those labyrinths of stone 
The sea had got entangled in the land, 
And turned and twisted, struggling to get free, 
And be once more the immeasurable sea." 

1 " Two leagues farther on there is another good river still 
larger, in which we caught a great many salmon, and we called 
it the St. James River: . . . We put into another harbor farther 
west and about a league beyond the aforesaid St. James River, 
which I judge to be one of the best harbors in the world, and 
which was named Jacques Cartier Harbor. If the land cor- 
responded to the excellence of the harbors, it would be a great 
blessing, but one ought not to call it land at all, but rather 
pebbles and savage rocks and places fit for wild beasts, inas- 
much as in all the land towards the north I saw not so much 
as a cartload of earth. . . . And, in fine, I think that land is 
the land that God gave to Cain." 

192 



SHECATICA AND JACQUES CARTIER 

Here the forest was larger and more exten- 
sive, filling in great valleys between the rugged 
precipitous hills. We passed a long sand-beach 
and the mouth of the Little Coxipi River, and, 
turning abruptly to the northeast by a high 
rocky island or peninsula, entered a lovely 
basin. 

All the valleys were heavily forested and the 
tree-line on the hills was higher than at the 
entrance of the inlet. Near the delta of the 
Little Shecatica River, whose falls we could 
hear roaring in the forest, we at last found an 
anchorage. Elsewhere our plumb-line had not 
reached bottom — it was twenty or even thirty 
fathoms deep. We had sailed eight or nine 
miles from the entrance of Shecatica Bay to 
the foot of the inlet at the first rapid, and ten 
or twelve miles from there to our anchorage 
at the head of the inlet. We had come from 
the Arctic Zone with trees flat on the ground 
to the Hudsonian Zone of spruce and fir trees 
fifteen or twenty feet high. Here and there a 
giant black spruce, bare for the most part with 
a tuft of dark foliage on its summit, towered 
ten or fifteen feet higher. The Arctic Zone was 
still here, however, for the hills, which reached 

193 



IN AUDUBON'S LABEADOR 

a height of five or six hundred feet, extended 
their rocky and Hchen-covered summits above 
the tree-Hne. It was a beautiful place, and it 
was a great pleasure to gaze upon the scene 
from the deck of our little schooner, where the 
gentle breeze served to keep away the insect 
pests. But the naturalists, like eager children, 
would not be satisfied until they could examine 
at close range all the interests of the place. 

At the mouth of the Little Shecatica River 
we found a tent and a hogshead in which to 
salt salmon, but no sign of recent occupancy. 
An old Indian portage leads up to the rapids 
and falls of the river, twisting its narrow path 
through the forest. The roar of the river 
drowned out all the bird-voices, and I pushed 
on, enjoying from time to time the glimpses of 
falls and rapids, and at last reached a small for- 
est-embosomed lake where the portage-path 
ended abruptly. As I had not carried a canoe 
on my head to launch into the lake, I had no 
choice but to take to the forest, guiding my 
way by the sound of the river behind and the 
glimpses of a precipitous peak in front. On the 
way I came upon a family of water-thrushes. 
They appeared somewhat darker than the 

194 



^ _„,.« Mmy»«» ^ 






THE SEA STAR IN SHECATICA INLET 




SHECATICA RIVER 



SHECATICA AND JACQUES CARTIER 

bird of northern New England, but their ways 
were familiar. From the peak I could see four 
little lakes or basins connected with rapids 
and falls that flashed out white among the 
spruces. Another peak much higher, to the 
westward, then became my goal, and, after a 
struggle through the thick woods and thicker 
flies, I reached its summit and was well repaid 
by the glorious view over a typical southern 
Labrador country, bare and desolate in the 
uplands, but thickly forested in the valleys. 
In the little salt lake, perhaps six hundred feet 
lower down and to the south, the Sea Star 
looked like a speck on the unruffled water. 
Other lakes not so freely connected with the 
sea lay to the north and west. Arctic birds, 
pipits and horned larks, alighted and walked 
on the poised boulders of the summit of my 
little mountain, and white-crowned sparrows 
called and sang in the scrubby thickets lower 
down. It would have been easy to retrace 
my steps and thus find my way back to the 
schooner, but a steep and narrow valley to the 
west which evidently concealed a brook flow- 
ing down to the inlet tempted me to return in 
this way. One can have no better guide than 

195 



m AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

a brook; it is sure to flow into a river or lake 

or sea. 

"And even the weariest river 
Winds somewhere safe to sea." 

It is a friendly companion with a soothing, 
cheerful voice, and, although difficult at times 
to follow, is a safe guide. It was Plautus who 
said: "He who knows not the way leading to 
the sea, should make the river his compan- 
ion." A soap-down on deck and a plunge in 
the inlet soon dispelled all feelings of irrita- 
tion from the flies and of heat and weariness. 
. The next day we sailed only a mile on our 
return and were glad the wind gave out and 
compelled us to anchor, for we could well 
spend another day ashore. How glad we were 
that we had no vile gasoline motor! This an- 
chorage was at the delta of the Little Coxipi 
River, and about a quarter of a mile to the 
westward of this we found the beginning of 
the Grand Portage. This is a portage-path 
that the moccasined feet of the Montagnais 
Indians, men, women, and children, have 
worn and polished for generations. With their 
canoes and supplies and household gods on 
their backs, with their babies and spoils of 
196 



SHECATICA AND JACQUES CARTIER 

the forest, they have journeyed back and 
forth for centuries. Many tons of furs have 
been brought by this portage, which leads 
over the hills and by little lakes to the Big 
Coxipi River, then by a series of lakes and 
portages to the St. Paul River, and so on over 
the height of land to Hamilton Inlet. 

One not familiar with Indian portage-paths 
might picture a broad, smooth path, almost 
a road, over the mountains and through the 
forest, as a result of such long usage. This is 
not the case, however, for the portage is but 
a narrow footpath in which men may walk 
in single file, a path that winds and twists to 
avoid obstacles, some of which, like fallen 
trees, may have long since disappeared. A 
portage-path well suits the purposes of an or- 
nithologist, for in it he may cover large areas 
of country without the necessity of strug- 
gling through the thick growths except for 
short forays on either side, and he has no 
need of watching his direction lest he be lost. 
Its superiority was well shown that morning 
when I stumbled upon the portage and went 
a couple of miles into the interior, while the 
botanist, not finding it near the Little Coxipi 
197 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

River as he expected, was unable to penetrate 
into the thick tangle more than a couple of 
hundred yards. 

The foot of the Grand Portage at the inlet 
was crossed by a narrow brook of the clearest, 
coolest water, and I drank where doubtless 
many Indians had drunk before me. The path 
led up over steep rocks to an elevated plateau 
from which there was a good view of the forest 
below and the inlet. Here I found a camping- 
ground marked by the circles where a dozen 
or more wigwams had stood, still carpeted 
with balsam boughs now leafless. In the cen- 
ter of each circle short stakes had been driven 
into the ground. On these a little sheet-iron 
stove had stood, a more convenient form of 
family hearth than the old open fire. The 
smoke from the stove is conducted out through 
a small iron pipe. I searched about this camp- 
site and found the broken stock of a cheap 
Hudson's Bay Company's gun, a single cari- 
bou antler chipped with a knife, gulls' and 
ducks' feathers, and long shavings and props 
where canoes were built. A singular wooden 
implement shaped like a large wooden dumb- 
bell puzzled me, but I afterwards learned that 
198 



I 1 * .l_Jf»»v»^ 



LOOKING DOWN SHECATICA INLET FROM THE GRAND PORTAGE 







FRAMEWORK OF SWEAT-HOUSE AT INDIAN CAMPING-PLACE 
ON THE GRAND PORTAGE 



SHECATICA AND JACQUES CARTIER 

it was used in building canoes, in pounding 
the ribs from within alternately, first on one 
side and then on the other. It goes by the 
simple name of vateragamashook. But the most 
interesting record left in this Indian encamp- 
ment was the framework of a low oval wig- 
wam formed of twelve poles bent over and 
tied with withes. It was five by six feet in 
diameter and four feet high. In the middle 
was a flat surface of sand surrounded by a 
circle of sphagnum moss. Here were chips of 
stone and bits of charcoal, while outside were 
numerous large stones which showed the effects 
of fire. This was a sweat-house where the In- 
dians took a Turkish bath. It is an almost 
universal practice among them. The "Hand- 
book of North American Indians," published 
by the Smithsonian Institution, says: "The 
type of the ordinary sweat-house seems to 
have been everywhere the same. Willow rods 
or other pliant stems were stuck into the 
ground and bent and fastened with withes 
into a hemispherical or oblong framework, 
which generally was large enough to accom- 
modate severarpersons. A hole was dug con- 
veniently near the door into which stones, 
199 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

usually heated outside, were dropped by means 
of forked sticks. These were sprinkled with 
water to generate steam. A temporary cover- 
ing of blankets or skins made the enclosure 
tight. . . . The construction of a sweat-house 
was usually attended with many rules and 
observances. . . . Among the Kiowa (Mooney) 
the framework consisted always of twelve sup- 
ports." It is interesting to note that there 
were just twelve supports in this sweat-house. 
The sweat-bath has been used among the 
Indians as a religious rite, as a treatment for 
disease, and as a social and hygienic practice. 
Hovering about the camp, probably with a 
view to food, was a Labrador jay, the darker 
race of the Canada jay or whisky-jack. 

The portage-path led up over an old sea- 
beach perhaps two hundred feet above sea- 
level, made up of rounded cobbles and pebbles 
more or less disintegrated by the vegetable 
growth and frost. The rocky heights at the 
same level were bare of boulders, but those 
two or three hundred feet higher showed deli- 
cately poised boulders against the sky-line. 
On one of these I counted fourteen large ones. 
The view to the south gave a glimpse of the 
200 



SHECATICA AND JACQUES CARTIER 

sea through the lower passage of the Inlet, 
with wonderful patches of blue water among 
rocky hills, while to the northwest was a large 
lake. I followed down the portage-path on 
the other side of the divide until it entered a 
sparsely forested bog and ended at a small nar- 
row lake shut in on the east by rocky cliffs. 

The botanist and I had interesting experi- 
ences; our short incursion into the partially 
forested interior from the barren coast was a 
profitable one. He added twenty species to his 
list and I four to mine. There are thrills to 
be experienced in the pursuit of all hobbies. 
I expected a great many thrills in Audubon's 
Labrador and I had my full share. Now this 
kind of thrill may be produced by any unusual 
thing in the ornithological world and may 
range from the ,first sight of a common bird 
on its arrival in the spring to the discovery of 
a bird new to science. It includes, for example, 
the observation of a rare bird or of an unusual 
or unknown song or note or habit. Thrills of 
this sort add greatly to the pleasures of life, 
and only those who have experienced them 
know their full value. 

My greatest thrill was here, at Shecatica, 
201 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

over a small and insignificant-looking bird, a 
Hudsonian chickadee that at once struck me 
as unusually dark and sooty in appearance. 
This tendency to darkness of plumage is 
shown in several of the Labrador birds, and 
is due, I believe, to the damp climate. As 
Siebold says, in "The Birds of Siberia," "It 
seems too bad to shoot these charming little 
birds, but as the 'Old Bushman' says, 'What 
is hit is history, and what is missed is mystery,' " 
and in order to be sure to make a real addition 
to knowledge it was necessary to procure speci- 
mens. It was apparently an undescribed sub- 
species and on my return I had the pleasure 
of describing it and adding it to the list of birds 
known to science.^ 

The moon was nearly full that night, and the 
next morning was clear and calm. A white 
mist filled the valleys among the hills and gave 
the appearance of glacial ice leading down 
to the water's edge. A fox sparrow sang from 

^. In The Auk of January, 1916, I gave a description of this 
race of chickadees, naming the bird Penthestes hudsonicus 
nigricans. Strangely enough, this Labrador chickadee was 
so kind as to return my visit, for a large migration of them 
occurred throughout the New England States and even to 
New Jersey and Staten Island in the winter of 1916-17, (See 
The Auk for April, 1917-) 

202 



SHECATICA AND JACQUES CARTIER 

the shore, a loon called as he flew overhead, 
and above the constant murmur of the brook 
could be heard the whistles, groans, and calls 
of a Labrador jay in the forest. We weighed 
anchor and drifted down slowly with the tide. 
The men had caught in nets a couple of dozen 
two- and three-pound trout, and we were 
therefore well supplied with food. As we were 
drifting, Louis Robin and his son George came 
up to visit us from the telegraph-station at 
the mouth of the inlet, and the talk wandered 
from fish to Indians and from caribou to wal- 
rus. Only this spring a walrus — • une vache 
marine — was shot on an island in Shecatica 
Bay. They heard what they thought to be 
a man crying for help, but found a young 
walrus eight feet long and shot it. One was 
caught at Harrington in seal-nets four years 
ago, and still another at Esquimaux Point ten 
years ago. In Cartier's time they were com- 
mon on these shores, — he speaks of seeing 
them near the Bay of Seven Islands, — but 
they are now nearly restricted to much more 
Arctic regions. 

The caribou still come down in the winter 
from the interior to the shore and occasionally 
203 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

visit the islands. Forty were shot between St. 
Augustine and Old Fort In the winter of 19 14- 
15. These are the woodland caribou and also 
the smaller barren ground or Cabot's caribou, 
a form distinctive of Labrador and named by 
Dr. Glover M. Allen after Mr. W. B. Cabot, 
the well-known Labrador explorer. I was so 
fortunate as to obtain a pair of antlers of this 
caribou taken at Blanc Sablon. The eyes of the 
old man Robin sparkled as he spoke of the 
pleasures of dog-sledding and of the winter's 
hunt. 1 

Shecatica Inlet is a good example of the 
fiordal character of this coast. Daly ^ quotes 
the description of the coast of Norway from 
Trondhjem to Bergen, as given by J. D. 
Forbes in "Norway and Its Glaciers," as ap- 
plicable to the southern part of the eastern 
coast of Labrador. It also applies to this 
southern coast. Forbes says that a series of 
inlets penetrates "in all directions a low, bare, 
rocky land, partly Island, partly continent, 
nowhere rising but to a very small height 
above the sea, and so monotonous In charac- 

1 The Geology of the Northeast Coast of Labrador, Bulletin 
Museum of Comparative Zoology, Harvard College, vol. 
XXXVIII, p. 210. 

204 



SHECATICA AND JACQUES CARTIER 

ter, and destitute of long reaches or natural 
landmarks as to seem to require an almost 
superhuman instinct for its pilotage." G. W. 
Gregory, in ''Nature and Origin of Fiords," 
draws the following conclusions: "Hence, the 
main fiords of Labrador, like those of Baffin 
Land, occupy valleys worn by preglacial de- 
nudation in an ancient and faulted plateau, 
which has undergone unequal uplift and sub- 
sidence in recent geological times." These vari- 
ous passages and inlets of Canadian Labrador 
resemble the fiards of Sweden, where the land 
is also but slightly elevated. Their irregular- 
ity suggests the cracks in a broken piece of 
glass. John Burroughs, writing of the Alaskan 
Coast, says: "The edge of this part of the con- 
tinent for a thousand miles has been broken 
into fragments small and great, as by the 
stroke of some earth-cracking hammer, and 
into the openings and channels thus formed the 
sea flows freely." 

Here and at several places along the coast 
dikes of dark trap-rock were to be seen cutting 
the gneiss. In New England where these dikes 
have not been under the sea they stand out 
above the gneiss or granite, for the trap-rock 

205 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

is less easily worn down by the rain and the 
frost, but on the shores where the waves bat- 
ter they are cut away and form chasms like 
the well-known Rafe's Chasm at Gloucester. 
In Labrador these dikes have recently risen 
from the sea and are, therefore, cut below the 
level of the surrounding granitic rock. I have 
seen similar but larger dikes on the eastern 
Labrador coast which suggest from a distance 
cuttings for roads across the country. 

In sailing out of the inlet we startled a female 
red-breasted merganser, or sheldrake, with a 
brood of young. The ducklings at once hid 
themselves among the rocks on shore while 
the mother flew away. It was good policy for 
both parent and offspring, but very different 
from the actions of a brood of the same species 
that I had surprised in a different way the 
day before. I emerged from the woods on the 
shore of a lakelike expansion of the inlet and 
perceived a mother merganser with a dozen 
downy young a little over a gunshot away. 
The mother saw me at once and swam a short 
distance, nervously thrusting out her head; 
then dived and came up outside, enticing her 
brood to follow, which they did, swimming 
206 



SHECATICA AND JACQUES CARTIER 

in a compact bunch. By frequently repeating 
her tactics the young were drawn farther and 
farther away. They were having their first 
lesson of fear of man instilled into them; an- 
other time they would probably react without 
prompting. 



CHAPTER X 

A DESCENDANT OF THE CHEVALIER DE ST. PAUL, 
WITH REMARKS ON VINLAND THE GOOD AND 
THE PORT OF BREST 

A FAVORING wind sprang up and we 
said good-bye to the Robins and to 
Jacques Cartier's anchorage and passed inside 
of Shecatica Island. Here were two houses ; in 
one lived a man wealthy in children — he had 
twelve — but poor in worldly goods until last 
winter when he caught a black fox. This he 
sold for twelve hundred dollars and at once 
purchased a cod-trap and a gasoline boat. I 
hope the increased income from the former will 
pay for the latter. I was once journeying in 
Cape Breton in a motor-boat, the engine of 
which was continually giving trouble. Its owner, 
an elderly Scotchman, was too strait-laced to 
give vent to his feelings in the ordinary manner, 
but finally, after long unsuccessful cranking, he 
turned to me and said, "A gasoline engine is a 
vexation of the spirit and a leaky pocket." 
In the other house the family had been 
208 



VINLAND THE GOOD 

nearly exterminated by tuberculosis, the 
scourge of this coast. At first sight it seems 
strange that, in a country where the air is so 
pure, tuberculosis should be so common, but 
the cause is not far to seek. The houses are 
small, the rooms crowded, and the doors and 
windows are tightly closed for reasons that 
appeal very forcibly to the people. In sum- 
mer the mosquitoes swarm, and nettings are 
practically unknown on the coast; in winter 
the cold is severe and warmth must be con- 
served. All ignorant people prefer to crowd 
together and dislike all ventilation. The an- 
cestors of the most hygienic people in the 
world followed the same methods a short time 
ago. The habit of spitting is, however, the 
chief offense and a cause of the prevalence of 
this disease. Dr. George W. Corner has vividly 
described the situation. He says: "Spitting 
is the national sport of the fisherman, both 
indoors and out; and, when practiced by an 
infected man, in a tight, overheated, one-room 
shack, among a family of underfed children, 
the result may be imagined." He also says 
that "in the absence of statistics it has been 
estimated that one death in three in Newfound- 
209 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

land and Labrador is caused by this disease." 
Dr. Grenfell and his entire staff are continu- 
ally striving to remove the cause of tubercu- 
losis, but educational work of this kind is nec- 
essarily slow. Dr. Arthur Wakefield, now at 
the front, for several years traveled about New- 
foundland and preached in every village from 
the one text, "Open your windows and don't 
spit." 

We sailed on through Chimney-Head Pas- 
sage — ^ "a passage only for those who know 
it" the captain said. Here was an ancient 
stone chimney formerly used in trying-out 
seal-oil. We passed Napetepi Bay and Anse 
a Malouin opposite, which was a "Bull" or 
"Boule," a round rocky island. Then Lobster 
Bay, nearly five miles deep leading up into the 
low mountains, opened up. There is a portage 
of only about a hundred yards at its head 
which leads to Napetepi Lake. To the south 
we could see for the first time the shadowy 
mountains of Newfoundland. Rocky Bay and 
Lydia Harbor were passed in turn. At the 
latter place was a single house and the captain 
told another sad tale of tuberculosis. Birds 
were almost absent. In the morning's sail we 
210 



VINLAND THE GOOD 

saw only eighteen black guillemots, one her- 
ring gull, and seven great black-backed gulls 
— not a single eider, murre, or razor-billed 
auk ; the motor-boat had done its deadly work. 
We landed and explored Grassy Island with 
its sand-beach and fringe of strand wheat, an 
elevated elastic tundra of lichens, mosses, and 
curlew-berry, a pool of clear water, and be- 
yond this, fifty or sixty feet above the sea, an 
elevated beach of large and small pebbles. The 
most skeptical would here be convinced of 
changing land-levels. 

The mountain cranberry, the strand wheat, 
and the northern white birch have all been men- 
tioned several times in these pages. They are 
of especial interest in the discussion that has 
gone on for so many years as to the location of 
" Vinland the Good," the land discovered by 
Leif, the son of Eric, sometimes called Leif the 
Lucky. Among the latest and most important 
contributions to this discussion are "The Find- 
ing of Wineland the Good," by A. M. Reeves; 
"The Voyages of the Northmen," by Julius 
E. Olson; "Notes on the Plants of Wineland 
the Good," by Professor M. L. Fernald;i "In 
* Rhodora, vol. 12 (1910), pp. 17-38. 
211 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

Northern Mists," by Fridtjof Nansen; and 
**The Voyages of Norsemen to America," by 
Professor William Hovgaard. From all of 
these I have freely drawn for the following 
brief r6sum6 of the subject. 

Although the discovery of America by the 
Norsemen took place about the year looo, 
detailed accounts of the Vinland voyages are 
not recorded until the thirteenth century in 
the "Saga of Eric the Red," and in the four- 
teenth, in the "Flatey Book." From the latter 
it appears that a young man named Bjarne 
Herjulfsson, intending to sail to Greenland 
from Iceland to visit his father, missed reckon- 
ings owing to northerly winds and fogs and 
finally reached a land which was "flat and 
wooded." The men knew it could not be 
Greenland, but Bjarne refused to go ashore 
and investigate; he turned away, and after 
many days reached Greenland. In the "Saga 
of Eric the Red" it was Leif who, sailing from 
Norway to Greenland, discovered this land. 
The "Flatey Book" says he followed Bjarne's 
directions and landed where "no grass grew 
and great glaciers were seen inland, while the 
coast between the glaciers and the sea looked 
212 






VINLAND THE GOOD 

like one large flat stone. . . . Then said Leif : 
*. . . Now I will give this land a name and 
call it Helluland.' " The glaciers suggest Baf- 
fin Land, although it is generally supposed to 
be Labrador. Then they sailed to another 
land which was "flat and covered with woods, 
and there were extensive white sands, wher- 
ever they went, and the beach was not steep. 
Then said Leif: 'This land shall be named 
according to its nature and it shall be called 
Markland.'" Labrador at Sandwich Bay is 
one of the interpretations of "Markland"; the 
usual one is Newfoundland. Again they sailed 
out into the open sea with a northeast wind, 
and after two days saw land and it was here 
that vinvio and vinber were found, or grape- 
vines and grapes as ordinarily interpreted. 
They were first seen by Tyrker Southman, 
Leif's foster-father, a German, who said to 
Leif, "I was born where there is no lack of 
either vinvio or vinber.^' Leif therefore named 
the land Vinland. Hveiti and masur or mosurr 
wood are also mentioned several times in the 
Saga. These terms have been interpreted to 
mean Indian corn or wild rice and maple, 
but Professor Fernald has shown that they 
213 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

must refer to strand wheat and the northern 
white birch. Strand wheat occurs on both sides 
of the Atlantic; on the American side it ex- 
tends south to the Maine coast and the Isles 
of Shoals, and it has recently been found on 
the tip of Cape Cod. It is used in Iceland to- 
day for making flour for bread and was a famil- 
iar plant to the Norsemen. The white birch of 
northern Europe and Labrador are believed by 
some to be the same species. On the eastern 
Labrador coast this tree is much stunted and 
distorted by the severity of the climate, the 
violence of the gales, and the weight of the 
winters' snows. The grain of the wood is in 
consequence often curiously twisted. Hard 
knobs, induced perhaps by partial breaks, are 
common, and from these much-prized drink- 
ing-vessels were made by the ancient Vikings. 
The wild grape does not appear even at a 
distance from the coast north of the St. John 
Valley in New Brunswick, and is found on the 
coast only as far north as the mouth of the 
Kennebec, but is common to the south of Cape 
Ann. On Cape Cod the large fox grape, the 
ancestor of the well-known Concord grape, is 
particularly abundant. 

214 



VINLAND THE GOOD 

The description of the natives seen by the 
Norsemen and called Skraelings corresponds 
very closely with that of the Eskimos. They 
wore fur clothing and came in skin canoes and 
were said to live in caves and holes. In the 
"Saga of Eric the Red" the following pas- 
sage occurs: "They saw a great number of 
skin canoes, and staves were brandished from 
the boats, with a noise like flails, and they 
were revolved in the same direction in which 
the sun moves." This, of course, suggests 
kayaks and the double-bladed paddle of the 
Eskimos. 

Those who believe that Vinland was on the 
Nova Scotia or Newfoundland coast are forced 
to the conclusion that the Eskimos formerly 
extended their range farther south, or that the 
Norsemen did not discriminate between the 
Eskimos and the Indians and called them all 
Skraelings. I have found in the ancient shell- 
heaps of the New England coast bone needles 
which resemble closely the same articles made 
and used to-day by the Labrador Eskimos. 
Such bone implements are, however, made 
by Indians. Pottery, plainly of Indian manu- 
facture, is also common in the shell-heaps. 
215 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

There is very little difficulty about the gen- 
eral location of Helluland and Markland, and 
there is no reasonable doubt that the Norse- 
men reached Labrador and very probably New- 
foundland. Vinland the Good is, however, a 
different matter. The description of the land- 
fall as given in the Sagas can be made, by the 
use of a little imagination, to fit a number 
of places exceedingly well. Its location may 
depend to a considerable extent, therefore, on 
the significance of vinber. If the Norsemen 
really found grapes and vines, — and it would 
seem that Leif's foster-father definitely re- 
ferred to grapes, — Vinland must be at least 
as far south as southern Maine, possibly as 
Professor Hovgaard suggests, on the sandy 
shores of Cape Cod, notwithstanding the fact 
that the Saga allows only two days for the 
voyage from Markland. On the other hand, 
the terms vinber and vinland may have been 
used to make the voyages appear more mar- 
velous or in order to induce settlers to come 
there. Such exaggeration or myth-making is 
common enough in ancient legends. Eric the 
Red frankly states that he gave Greenland 
its name, "because men would be more read- 

216 



VINLAND THE GOOD 

ily persuaded thither if the land had a good 
name." 

Another explanation is that of Professor 
Fernald, who finds that the term vinber, or 
wineberry, was used for various berries from 
which wine was made, particularly the moun- 
tain cranberry. He has gathered a great deal 
of evidence in support of this theory, which 
appears to reconcile many difficulties. If a 
cargo of vinber was carried away in the spring 
it might well have been one of mountain cran- 
berries, for at this season they are in good 
condition, which, of course, is not the case 
with grapes. The Saga is, however, obscure 
on this point and does not say definitely that 
the berries were gathered in the spring. The 
passage is as follows: "It is said that their 
after-boat was filled with vinber. A cargo was 
cut for the ship, and when the spring came, 
they made ready and sailed away." 

If, as the Saga relates, there was no snow 
in Vinland during a winter spent there by the 
Norsemen, and the cattle were able to graze 
during the whole season, it is evident that this 
was not the country of the mountain cran- 
berry. The description fits an especially mild 
217 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

winter on Cape Cod. From this description 
of the climate and the statement of Tyrker 
the German it i's plain that the" Saga wishes 
to convey the impression that the real grape 
was found. 

Nansen says: "Apart from the surprising cir- 
cumstance of the Icelanders having called a 
country Wineland the Good because whortle- 
berries [mountain cranberries] grew there, the 
explanation is inadmissible on the ground 
that whortle-berries were never called vinber 
[wine-berries] in old Norse or Icelandic. ... In 
ancient times the Norse people did not know 
how to make wine from any berry but the 
black crowberry [curlew-berry]; but there are 
plenty of these in Greenland, and it w^s not 
necessary to travel to Labrador to collect 
them." Hovgaard says it is "at least improb- 
able that the name vinber was applied gener- 
ally in Scandinavia to berries other than the 
grape at the time of the Vinland voyages." 
He finds that Bishop Jon taught the people of 
Iceland to make wine from Krcekiber in the 
year 1203, or after the time of the Vinland 
voyages. Krcekiber is the crowberry or cur- 
lew-berry. 

@18 



VINLAND THE GOOD 

Nansen calls attention to the frequent refer- 
ence in the Saga to vinvio as well as vinber, to 
the vines as well as to the grapes. These grape- 
vines were cut by the Norsemen and formed 
part of their cargoes. Hovgaard suggests that 
they were used and were of great value in 
tying the bottom planks of the ships to the 
frames. A Viking vessel, the so-called Gok- 
stad ship, was found in 1880 near Sandefiord, 
Norway. It was in an excellent state of pres- 
ervation owing to the fact that it had been 
used as the burial casket of a chieftain, and 
was covered by a mound of blue clay. In this 
vessel the planks were fastened to the frame 
by withes. 

I cannot help agreeing with Nansen that 
the Norsemen would not have named a mar- 
velous new country after such a familiar berry 
as the mountain cranberry. It is as if a native 
of New England should name a new and won- 
derful country "Huckleberry Land" even if 
huckleberries grew there abundantly. Either, 
therefore, Eric sailed a long distance south 
of Newfoundland and found the real grape 
when he named Vinland, or, like a dutiful son, 
he raised the grapes from his own fertile imagi- 
219 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

nation after the manner of his father in nam- 
ing Greenland. 

Nansen contends that "Wineland the Good 
was originally a mythical country, closely con- 
nected with the happy lands of Irish myth 
and legends — which had their first source in 
the Greek Elysium and Isles of the Blest, in 
Oriental sailors' myths, and an admixture of 
Biblical conceptions." He believes, however, 
that the Norsemen discovered a part of North 
America and that the tales of wine and wheat 
are later inventions. 

By way of summary of the facts and fan- 
cies regarding the voyages of the Norsemen, 
the following seem to be reasonable : — 

I. The Norsemen discovered America about 
the year looo and landed at Baffin Land, 
Labrador, and probably Newfoundland. 
The more northern of these regions they 
called Helluland, the more southern, 
Markland. 
II. South of Markland was a country they 
called Vinland the Good. This was: — 
(i) A mythical region with the famil- 
iar attributes of grapes and wheat, 
wine and bread like those of many 
220 



VINLAND THE GOOD 

another such mythical land pic- 
tured from the earHest times. 
(2) It was a region where they found 
the true grape. In this case the 
land was at least as far south as 
southern Maine and may have 
been Cape Cod. The reasons in 
favor of this supposition are as 
follows : — 

(a) The statement of Tyrker 
the German, who was famil- 
iar with the true grape. 

(b) The fact that they cut the 
vines to bring back in their 
vessels. These were prob- 
^ably used in shipbuilding. 

(c) The statement that there 
was no snow in Vinland 
during the winter and that 
the cattle grazed during the 
entire season. 

These three statements, together with the 
fact that the mountain cranberries were prob- 
ably not used for making wine by the Norse- 
men at this early date, and the improbability 
of their naming a wonderful land after such a 
221 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR " 

familiar and commonplace berry, negative the 
idea that by vinber they meant mountain cran- 
berry. 

Old Fort Island — Vieux Fort au large — 
with its summer houses and fish-stages could 
be seen in the distance from Grassy Island, 
but we sailed seven miles inland to the winter 
village of Old Fort. This is on the mainland 
at the head of a bay behind a sheltering island. 
Here were about fifteen dwelling-houses and 
a schoolhouse, but only one family was there 
looking after some captive foxes. The rest 
of the people were fishing at the islands. A 
deserted village it certainly was. Not even 
dogs were to be seen, although there were ele- 
vated platforms of logs for the safe storage 
of dog-food near the houses. On one of these 
were the ghastly remains of an Eskimo dog 
kept to feed his kindred. Tall wigwam-shaped 
wood-piles, frames for stretching sealskins, 
little gardens containing a few lettuces and 
turnips, rank with weeds and surrounded with 
high fences, komatiks shod with bone cut from 
the jaws of whales — all these were familiar 
objects in this cold land. Some bits of broken 




GRASSY island: RAISED BEACH 




OLD FORT: SITE OF BREST 
Showing Raised Beaches 



THE PORT OF BREST 

china arranged in squares and circles showed 
the former presence of children. Above the 
narrow shelf close to the beach on which the 
houses were built was a terrace, and about a 
hundred and fifty feet higher another terrace, 
while on either side still higher were others ; all 
bore the familiar earmarks of raised beaches. I 
regret that I had no means of measuring their 
exact heights. 

Old Fort was the ancient Port of Brest. This 
is clearly proved and set forth in detail by 
W. C. Gosling in his valuable work on Labra- 
dor. The port was founded at the beginning 
of the sixteenth century by the hardy Breton 
and Basque fishermen, probably before Jacques 
Cartier's arrival in 1534. Audubon's friend 
Samuel Robertson of Sparr Point, the grand- 
father of my friend of the same name and place, 
misled by a tradition that Brest was a city of 
some size and importance, added much con- 
fusion to the subject by locating the port at 
Bradore Bay. He described in the "Proceed- 
ings of the Literary and Historical Society of 
Quebec" for February, 1843, what he be- 
lieved to be the remains of a city of some two 
hundred houses or a thousand inhabitants that 
223 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

he found at this place. These statements have 
until recently been generally accepted and 
copied by historians. Dr. Samuel E. Dawson, 
however, in a paper read before the Royal 
Society of Canada on May 24, 1905, showed 
that on all the early maps Brest was located 
at Old Fort Bay. He showed, however, that 
it was chiefly a summer fishing-port with pos- 
sibly a blockhouse and a few men to guard 
the property in winter, and that it was not 
even mentioned by Champlain or Charlevoix 
or in any of the "Jesuit Relations." It 
is believed that the ruins found by Samuel 
Robertson were undoubtedly those of Fort 
Pontchartrain and the settlement made by 
Legardeur de Courtemarche early in the 
eighteenth century. This settlement was prob- 
ably abandoned and fell into ruins about 1 760, 
and it was these ruins that Robertson, eighty 
years later, thought to be the remains of the 
town of Brest. It is interesting to note here 
that this Samuel Robertson of Sparr Point 
married a daughter of Mr. Jones, of Bradore 
Bay, and it is probable that in his visits to 
this place these erroneous ideas of Brest were 
conceived. 

224 



THE PORT OF BREST 

The botanist and I explored the hinterland 
on the following day; it was a land of rocky 
peaks and lakes and bogs with small patches 
of forest in the protected valleys. The peaks 
were hills in height, four or five hundred feet 
at the most, but mountains in contour and 
general appearance. As Shaler says, "if a 
mountain or hill goes about it aright, it can 
get an amazing dignity without assaulting the 
heavens in its efforts." Although the bogs were 
small, owing to the multitude of rocky peaks, 
yet deep, soft moss was everywhere, even on 
the mountains, except on the exposed rocks. 

At Shecatica we had seen several spruce 
grouse with their young, and we found them 
common here. It is a bird that is easily ap- 
proached, often within a few feet, before it 
takes alarm and flies away. The young, eight 
or more in a brood, were only about a quarter 
grown, but able to fly well. They generally 
flew o& and disappeared while their mother 
remained on the ground, where she was diffi- 
cult to see unless among white reindeer moss. 
Sometimes she took to a spruce tree, where 
she cocked up her tail, nodded her head and 
croaked and clucked nervously. In the spring 
225 



^ IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

these birds are fond of the new tips of the 
spruce and fir, but at this time of year they 
were eating curlew- and snow-berries, young 
leaves of the oval-leafed blueberry, ferns, and 
the seeds or achenes of sedges. 

We lay secure in our quiet harbor of Old 
Fort that night, while, as we learned later, the 
Strathcona with Dr. Grenfell on board spent 
the night rolling in a heavy sea outside. With 
a good pilot he would have had a quiet night, 
and we should have spent a delightful evening 
with him. He went on the next day and we 
entirely missed him. 

On July 26, 1833, Audubon states in his 
Journal: "We left Bale de Portage before five 
in the morning, with a good breeze, intending 
to come to at Chevalier's settlement, forty- 
seven miles; but after sailing thirty, the wind 
failed us, it rained and blew, with a tremendous 
sea which almost shook the masts out of our 
good vessel, and about eight we were abreast 
of Bonne Esp6rance; but as our pilot knew as 
much of this harbor as he did of the others, 
which means nothing at all, our Captain thought 
prudent to stand off and proceed to Bras d'Or." 
On this same day of July eighty-two years 



THE CHEVALIER DE ST. PAUL 

later our captain guided us safely in the Sea 
Star among the maze of islands from Old Fort 
into the mouth of the Esquimaux or St. Paul 
River to "Chevalier's Settlement," and we 
paid our respects to Louis Owen Chevalier, 
whose father, Louis David, was a baby at the 
time that Audubon passed along the coast. 
His first ancestor to come to the New World 
was Jean Godefroy, who sailed from Lintot, 
Normandy, in 1626. He settled at Three Riv- 
ers when the town was founded in 1634, and 
in 1669 he was ennobled as the Chevalier de 
St. Paul. His third son, Jean Amador Gode- 
froy de St. Paul, was a fur- trader along the 
Labrador coast. On the 20th of March, 1706, 
he was granted by Philippe de Rigaud, Mar- 
quis of Vaudreuil and Governor of New France, 
a large tract of land, ten leagues frontage by 
ten leagues in depth, on "La Grande Riviere, 
pays des Esquimaux." ^ This seigniory has 
been passed from father to son, although we 
were told that the papers are now lost and 
that the present representative does not retain 
his privileges. 

^ I am indebted for this information to Mr. L. P. Sylvain, 
Assistant Librarian of the Library of Parliament at Ottawa. 

227 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

I found the descendant of the noble family, 
a man in the sixties with white hair and beard 
and a certain aristocratic manner of speech, 
dining with a descendant of another early ad- 
venturer in these regions, Mr. W. B. Cabot. 
Their ancestors were doubtless served with 
joints of venison and flagons of wine, but 
their descendants were dining on salt fish and 
tea. Mr. Cabot had found some of his Indian 
friends up the river, which sufficiently ac- 
counted for his presence. Chevalier told me 
that one of his great-uncles had been a taxi- 
dermist for Audubon and had traveled with 
him, and he was glad to hear about the famous 
ornithologist. The little settlement of four- 
teen or fifteen houses and a church is deserted 
in summer save for our friend, who ekes out a 
scanty existence by the netting of salmon. 

The shores of the bay and the mouth of the 
river were everywhere rocky and pseudo- 
mountainous, — if I may use the word, — with 
little forests hanging in the gullies or creep- 
ing down the valleys like glaciers. The sandy 
shores about the village were thick with grass 
growing on the soil enriched by years of fish- 
ing and sealing industries. A young bull was 
228 



THE CHEV/UJER DE ST. PAUL 

kept tliere one summer, and he throve and 
grew after he had killed several dogs and 
proved his mastery. 

The river itself is one of the largest that pours 
its waters into the Gulf, but, owing to the fact 
that the first falls are a long distance from the 
mouth, it is not used for fly-fishing. All the 
salmon that are caught are taken in nets by 
the Chevalier. 



CHAPTER XI 

BRADORE BAY AND PERROQUET ISLAND 

THE next day we sailed on the final lap of 
our course and passed out through a nar- 
row passage between Esquimaux Island and the 
shore. The captain called it a rigolet, but the 
English-speaking inhabitants of this region 
probably called it a tickle. In places we could 
have touched the rocks with a salmon-rod, and 
yet the water was almost too deep for anchor- 
age. I landed on the side of a cliff and filled the 
water-jugs from a brook that spouted down 
over the rocks. 

A rounded peak of Esquimaux Island that had 
been burned over several years ago presented a 
striking and singular appearance. The irregu- 
lar rock-surfaces standing out in their green 
surroundings were gray in color bordered with 
pink, while in the unburned areas this border 
was lacking. The pink was the color of the 
naked granitic rock deprived of its covering of 
lichens and vines. It will be many years before 
the lichens creep down over the burned places 
230 



BRADORE BAY AND PERROQUET ISLAND 

and the moss and curlew-berry and spruce 
creep up. 

The name of this island is doubtless derived 
from the fact that Eskimos formerly inhabited 
it. Gosling says that there is an authenticated 
tradition "that about the year 1640 the Mon- 
tagnais, armed by the French, attacked the 
Eskimos, who were encamped at Eskimo Island 
in St. Paul's Bay, and slew about a thousand of 
them." There is much difference of opinion as 
to the former distribution of the Eskimos, who 
are now not found south of Hamilton Inlet on 
the eastern coast. In the latter part of the eigh- 
teenth century, in Cartwright's time, they were 
found as far south as the Straits of Belle Isle, 
and Gosling says that at the beginning of that 
century they were found along the coast of the 
Gulf of St. Lawrence as far west, at least, as 
Pointe des Monts, where one of their battles 
with the Indians took place. The name Es- 
quimaux Point suggests, of course, the former 
existence of the Eskimos at that place. Battle 
Harbor is generally thought to be so named be- 
cause here, a few years before the English con- 
quest of Canada, the last important battle be- 
tween the Indians and the Eskimos is believed 
231 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

to have taken place. Gosling shows that this 
cannot be the origin of the name, for on maps 
published two hundred years prior to this sup- 
posed event the name " Batal " appears, the Por- 
tuguese for boat or canoe. Corte Real, the Por- 
tuguese, probably saw this land in the year 1 500. 

It is a significant fact, and one that throws 
doubt on the former western extension of the 
Eskimos in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, that 
Jacques Cartier does not mention seeing Eski- 
mos in this region, but does mention the Indi- 
ans. Gosling believes this is to be explained 
by the supposition that the Eskimos, induced 
by the desire to obtain European goods, first 
went to that locality in the latter part of the 
sixteenth century. 

We sailed by Salmon Bay and Jack Nasty 
Passage, where some years ago a whale stranded 
itself among the reefs. Here it was finally killed 
by many charges of buckshot. 

Bonne Esperance, — "Bonny," — the great 
fishing-establishment of the Whiteleys, was left 
on our starboard side. A group of trig, white- 
painted buildings, a red chapel, extensive fish- 
flakes and stages, and a fleet of fishing-barges 
showed the character of the place. 

232 



BRADORE BAY AND PERROQUET ISLAND 

As we squared away from Bonne Esp6rance, 
three porpoises appeared on our windward side 
and accompanied us for over an hour. At times 
they came close to us, pushing their backs and 
long, backward-curving fins out of the green 
water amid a shower of spray, and display- 
ing their white flanks, which contrasted well 
with their lead-colored backs. As we watched 
them, we were startled to see one suddenly 
turn at right angles to his course and advance 
under water — his trail plainly visible as a 
light-green line — • directly towards our little 
schooner. I could not help thinking of a tor- 
pedo discharged from a submarine, and held 
my breath, momentarily expecting the shock of 
contact. The porpoise, however, passed harm- 
lessly beneath the schooner and shortly after 
was seen returning. This performance occurred 
again and again, and was no doubt a form of 
play or game on the part of those great beasts. 
It was so interesting that even the botanist 
was aroused from his state of introspection, 
occasioned by the rough water, and "sat up 
and took notice." 

The birds seen in this traverse were few: a 
dozen or more razor-billed auks flew about the 

233 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

waves or dived beneath them, two or three 
Wilson's petrels pattered over the surface, a 
few kittiwakes soared overhead, three gannets 
passed us, and puffins, at first few in numbers, 
became abundant as we neared our destination. 
There was a heavy sea with wisps of fog and 
little wind, and we rolled unpleasantly and 
made little progress off Perroquet Island. At 
last, however, we managed to crawl in among 
the low, flat rocky islands which guard the little 
harbor of Bradore. Inside were a dozen New- 
foundland fishing-schooners at anchor, a small 
number compared with the fleet Aubudon 
found here. He says: "Bras d'Or is the grand 
rendezvous of almost all the fishermen that 
resort to this coast for codfish. We found here 
a flotilla of about one hundred and fifty sail, 
principally fore-and-aft schooners, a few pick- 
axes, etc., mostly from Halifax and the eastern 
portions of the United States. There was a life 
and stir about this harbor which surprised us 
after so many weeks of wilderness and loneli- 
ness — the boats moving to and fro, going after 
fish, and returning loaded to the gunwales, 
others with seines, others with capelings for 
bait. A hundred or more were anchored out 
234 



BR.\DORE BAY AND PERROQUET ISLAND 

about a mile from us, hauling the poor codfish 
b}^ thousands ; hundreds of men engaged clean- 
ing and salting, their low jokes and songs re- 
sembling those of the Billingsgate gentry." 

A few houses were scattered about the is- 
lands; there were wharves and storehouses; 
boats filled with men in oilskins were passing 
back and forth from the schooners to the shore; 
children in scanty clothing were playing fisher- 
men with great sweeps; and the whole place 
smelled of fish. One could look down through 
the clear water and see hundreds of dead fish 
lining the bottom. It did not look inviting for 
a bath. The Abb6 Huard says of this harbor 
that it is made " by a group of little islands of a 
very picturesque character separated by nar- 
row channels — the whole place designed for a 
future American Venice." The abbe has a keen 
sense of humor, which is continually cropping 
out in his book on " Labrador et Anticosti," but 
the most amusing bit, of which, however, he 
was apparently unconscious, is a footnote on 
page 435 in which he says: " It appears that the 
Esquimaux were evangelized in 1763 by Cart- 
wrigh [sic], Moravian minister"! I am sure 
Captain Cartwright would laugh in his grave 

235 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

if he should hear this. He gave the Eskimos a 
square deal, however, which is more than some 
missionaries have done. 

At Bradore Bay in Audubon's time dwelt a 
Mr. Jones, whose fame still lingers in this re- 
gion, and tales are still told of his grand style 
of living. One of his sisters, as I have already 
stated, married the first Samuel Robertson of 
Sparr Point, and was living there when Audu- 
bon called. A son of Mr. Jones is still living — 
an old man over eighty years of age — at Wolf 
Bay, Cape Whittle. We saw his substantial 
houses from a distance, but it was one of our 
very busy days and we were unable to pay him 
a call. Audubon has given an amusing account 
of this settler at Bradore in his "Episode" on 
"The Squatters of Labrador," but he refers to 
him as Mr. . He was embarrassed by hav- 
ing Mrs. Jones point to some "vile prints hung 
on the bare walls, which she said were elegant 
Italian pictures," and he had to compose his 
features when she described a musical instru- 
ment, at that time sent away for repairs, which 
had at one end "a crooked handle, by turning 
which round, either fast or slow, I do assure 
you we make most excellent music." The fam- 
236 



BRADORE BAY AND PERROQUET ISLAND 

ily lived very comfortably and were most hos- 
pitable to Audubon and his party. "During 
our stay at Bras d'Or," he says, "the kind- 
hearted and good Mrs. daily sent us fresh 

milk and butter, for which we were denied the 
pleasure of making any return." Mr. Jones was 
an interesting man who had seen much of the 
world, but was well content and happy to settle 
here where he earned a comfortable living by 
sealing, fishing, and trapping. "Whenever the 
weather was fair, he walked with his dame over 
the moss-covered rocks of the neighborhood; 
and during winter killed Ptarmigans and Cari- 
bous, while his eldest son attended to the traps, 
and skinned the animals caught in them. He 
had the only horse that was to be found in that 
part of the country, as well as several cows ; but, 
above all, he was kind to every one, and every 
one spoke well of him." The house with all its 
interesting contents was long ago burned to the 
ground. It stood near where the house of Cap- 
tain Blais now stands, on the eastern shore of 
the bay. The place is still called Jones's Point. 
We caught but fleeting glimpses of the pic- 
turesque mountains which reach their climax in 
three rounded peaks at the head of the bay. 

237 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

The highest of these, 1264 feet in elevation, was 
named Mount Cartier by Professor A. S. Pack- 
ard in his visit to the coast in 1864. The fog 
was continually blowing in and blotting out the 
view. It might well have been here in Bradore 
Bay that Sir Humphrey Gilbert in his voyage 
of discovery in 1583 found himself befogged and 
"surrounded by hideous rocks and mountains 
bearing no trees and voide of any greene vege- 
tation." 

Fog is the common condition here, and as the 
mail steamer Meigle, on which I was to return 
by way of Newfoundland, touches at Bradore 
only in clear weather, it was very necessary, if I 
wished to take no chances, to go on to Blanc 
Sablon. In the absence of wind I descended to 
the level of a motor-boat, in which with all my 
luggage I set out for that harbor: — 

"When suddenly a grosse fog over sped 
With his dull vapour all that desert has 

And heaven's cheerful face enveloped; 

That all things one, and one as nothing was, 

And his great universe seemed one confused mass." 

The effect of the "grosse fog" on the skipper of 
the motor-boat was not such as is pictured in 
the next stanza of Spenser's poem, where he 
says, — 



BRADORE BAY AND PERROQUET ISLAND 

"Thereat they greatly were dismay 'd, ne wist 
How to direct theyr way in darkness wide; 
But feared to wander in that wastefull mist: 
For troubling into mischief unespyde: 
Worse is the danger hiden then descride"; — 

for he appeared to know his way and to steer 
the boat at full speed with an assurance almost 
incredible until I realized that he was making 
use of his knowledge of the waves and currents 
and of the sound of surf on ledges, all of which 
were familiar guides to him in his life-work. In 
fact, he scorned my compass as entirely unnec- 
essary, — he did not carry one himself, — and 
suddenly the lee side of Perroquet Island, at 
the exact place where we wished to land, loomed 
up out of the fog. Here puffins, or perroquets 
as they are called, have bred from time imme- 
morial and here they still retain a hold not- 
withstanding the persecution they have en- 
dured. This, I am inclined to think, is greater 
at the present day than ever before, and will, 
soon destroy them root and branch if nothing 
is done to prevent. The birds were noticeably 
less in number than they were when I passed 
the island in 1906. Audubon says: "As we 
approached the breeding-place, the air was 
filled with these birds, and the water around 
239 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

absolutely covered with them, while on the 
rocks were thousands, like sentinels on the 
watch." Father Hesry said that puffins were 
formerly so numerous that when they rose in 
the air they hid the island from sight. This is 
doubtless a picturesque exaggeration on the 
part of the good father, but it gives a vivid idea 
of the great numbers of birds. At the time of 
our visit, in the year 191 5, there were small 
places where the air and the water were filled 
with the birds ; small groups could be seen on 
the rocks, but there were probably not one hun- 
dredth part of the hosts that Audubon found. 
Razor-billed auks were common, and I am in- 
clined to think that they were holding their own 
much better than the puffins, as they lay their 
eggs in more inaccessible places under the rocks. 
As the puffins diminish, the auks seem to in- 
crease by comparison. 

The island itself lies about halfway between 
Bradore Harbor and Long Point, at the en- 
trance of the Bay of Blanc Sablon. The island 
is not far from the shore at Anse au Dunes. It 
is about a quarter of a mile across, nearly circu- 
lar, with a flat, elevated center of red sandstone 
disposed in horizontal layers. On the western 
240 




A GLIMPSE OF BRADORE IN THE FOG 



-, . -#:'«•"< . 




PERROQUET ISLAND 



BR/\DORE BAY AND PERROQUET ISLAND 

and southern sides of this tableland are cliffs 
twenty or thirty feet high with great slabs of 
rock broken from the cliffs lying below. Every- 
where in the soft reddish-black soil formed by 
the disintegration of the sandstone are the 
nesting-burrows of the puffins. These are to be 
found not only on the high land of the interior, 
but on the low shore-shelf, and one must watch 
his steps with care in this difficult ground. Some 
of the pufffns nest under or among the blocks of 
stone, and here they are as secure as the razor- 
billed auks that lay their eggs in the same re- 
gions. I dug out one of the burrows in the soft 
soil and found it four feet long. It was about 
a foot below the surface during the first half of 
the course and descended to a depth of nineteen 
inches at the end. Here was a loose nest made 
of feathers and eel-grass in which was an old 
bird and a young. The young was a charming 
baby — a fluffy ball of black down with a white 
breast, and a small black bill. The old bird 
with its great parrot-like beak, scarlet, blue, and 
white in color, and its solemn spectacled face, 
went flopping over the ground when I released 
it, and shortly afterwards took wing. Many of 
the holes had been dug out, and I learned that 
241 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

fishermen from the Newfoundland fleet had 
frequently visited the island this summer, as 
there had been no one to prevent. These men 
also spread fish-nets over the ground, and the 
poor puffins, coming out of their holes, are en- 
tangled and fall an easy prey. The birds are 
also shot to some extent in the summer, but the 
spring shooting is the most destructive. Men 
camp on the island for four or five days at a 
time and shoot the birds as they fly about 
within easy gunshot. My informant boasted 
that he had brought down twenty-five birds at 
one shot, and added that the wounded birds 
crawl into the holes and escape. Boys lie be- 
hind rocks and knock the birds down with 
sticks. The puffins are destroyed ostensibly for 
food, but the element of cruel sport undoubt- 
edly enters into the game and many birds are 
wasted or fed to the dogs. How long can this 
sort of thing go on before the puffin is as extinct 
as the great auk? A stop must be put to these 
practices before it is too late. The whole sub- 
ject is considered in a later chapter. 

Jacques Cartier visited this island, which he 
calls the "Island of Birds," and gives an un- 
mistakable account of the puffins. He de- 



BR.VDORE BAY AND PERROQUET ISLAND 

scribes them as "crows with red beaks and red 
feet: they make their nests in holes under the 
ground even as conies." He also mentions the 
large numbers of " Godets " — razor-billed auks 
— at the same island. 



CHAPTER XII 

BLANC SABLON 

WE pushed on in the fog, passed Long 
Point, the western entrance of the 
Straits of Belle Isle, and landed at Blanc Sa- 
blon. This was on Wednesday, July 28; the 
steamer was due on Friday, but fog delayed her 
until the afternoon of Monday, August 2. Dur- 
ing the interval I was the guest of Mr, Edwin 
G. Grant, the agent of the great fishing-es- 
tablishment of Job Brothers and Company, 
Limited, at Blanc Sablon. The most distinc- 
tive quality of the Labradorians, says the 
Abb6 Huard, is their hospitality, and with this 
I can entirely agree. I began this expedition by 
a delightful experience of hospitality at Piashte 
Bay and I ended it equally pleasantly at Blanc 
Sablon. Mr. Grant and his charming family 
made my stay one always to be remembered. 
He has had charge here for Job Brothers and 
Company, a Newfoundland firm, for thirty-one 
years. There are seventy men under him : those 
who are nominally independent and own the 
244 




cow PARSNIPS AND STRAND WHEAT AT PERROQUET ISLAND 




BLANC SABLON: JOB BROTHERS AND COMPANY, LIMITED 



BLANC SABLON 

fish they catch, but sell them to the company, 
and the "servants" who work for wages. The 
company has also a branch, or "room" as it is 
called, at lie au Bois, another at Greenly Is- 
land, both near at hand, and still another at 
Forteau, some twelve miles down the coast. 
This "room" at Blanc Sablon was founded one 
hundred and fifty years ago by a firm from the 
Island of Jersey, and the main building, altered 
and rebuilt, still stands. With many of the 
terms used I was familiar from my acquaint- 
ance with Cartwright's Journals. A season's 
work, for example, is called a "voyage," and 
the term "cook-room" does not mean merely a 
kitchen, but refers to the whole building where 
the men eat and sleep. 

Another word frequently used by Cartwright 
I found to be common here, and that is "alex- 
ander" applied to a plant used as a pot-herb. 
Mrs. Grant at once pointed it out to me, and 
said that she always gathered it when it was 
young and tender and cooked it as greens. I 
was somewhat chagrined to find that the iden- 
tification I had made of "alexander" in editing 
Cartwright's Journals was an erroneous one, 
but I am glad to have this opportunity to 
245 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

correct it. It is not, as I supposed, the cow-par- 
snip, — a very common plant here, — but a 
smaller plant of the same family known as 
"Scotch lovage." 

It was a very picturesque and interesting 
place, and, considering the nature of the busi- 
ness done here, everything was as neat and 
clean as possible. Men in oilskins with large 
forks were pitching the fish — which, of course, 
means cod — from the trap boats on to the 
wharf. Here the fish were again transfixed and 
passed to the men in the fish-houses, who were 
deftly splitting, cleaning, and salting them. 
The wet fish, glistening with salt, are stacked 
in the low, darkened buildings, to await a fa- 
vorable opportunity later in the season to be 
spread and dried on the extensive fish-flakes, 
which take up all available room among the 
buildings. This process, like haymaking, is an 
anxious one, and its speed and success are de- 
pendent on the weather. 

The fresh livers are carefully washed and 
steamed, and the resulting oil is passed through 
three successive conical cloth strainers and 
comes out at the end looking good enough to 
drink — but this is a matter of taste. The 

246 



BLi\NC SABLON 

whole place was as neat as a laboratory. The 
unselected livers are thrown into great hogs- 
heads outside, where they are allowed to rot, 
and the oil which gathers on the surface is 
used for various purposes other than medicinal. 
This process is not so attractive. 

There is a fishing-room owned by a Jersey 
firm a short distance to the westward, on the 
other side of the little river which divides New- 
foundland Labrador from Canadian Labrador. 
This is presided over by a Jerseyman, Mr. Mor- 
rell. He has charge also of the telegraph-ofifice, 
but what he enjoys most, I suspect, is his garden, 
which he tends with a true garden-lover's care. 
I never saw such beautiful potato plants, green 
and luxuriant, and his turnips and lettuces 
were equally flourishing. The garden is pro- 
tected by a high fence from destruction by dogs 
and is enriched with decaying seaweed. Mr. 
Morrell never tired of telling about its charms. 

I was impatient to explore this country 
which I had looked at with longing eyes nine 
years before from the deck of the steamship 
Home, so I soon left the business of fish and 
fishing and directed my steps inland with a 
whole afternoon before me. 
247 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

The topography as well as the general ap- 
pearance of Blanc Sablon at once strikes the 
traveler coming down the coast as something 
totally different from that of the country he has 
been passing through to the west. Beginning 
near the eastern limit of the Mingan Islands, 
which with the adjacent shore are composed of 
yellow Cambro-Silurian limestone laid in hori- 
zontal strata, the stretch of three hundred miles 
of coast by which we had journeyed as far as 
Bradore Bay is of a uniform granitic or gneissic 
character — primordial Laurentian rock, gray, 
white, or red, molten and crystallized. It is 
thrown about and piled up in hills and moun- 
tains that are worn down by the ages, and re- 
cently smoothed and grooved, scratched and 
polished by the last ice age. At Perroquet Is- 
land, near Blanc Sablon, one comes face to face 
with a sudden change in the character of the 
country, for here are dark-brown or red cal- 
careous sandstones laid in horizontal strata and 
forming flat-topped cliffs. Similar cliffs extend 
to Chateau Bay and L'Anse au Diable, near the 
entrance of the Straits of Belle Isle. The fossils 
found in this stone show it to be of the Cam- 
brian age, but although it is many millions of 
248 




THE CLIFFS AT BLANC SABLON 




THE VALLEY AT BLANC SABLON 

Photograph by Edmund Hunt 



BLANC SABLON 

years old, it is very young compared with the 
crystalHne rocks on which it rests. These latter 
rocks are exposed at the shore at Blanc Sablon, 
and are the source of the white sand which 
forms the beaches and small dunes at this spot. 
Hence its name, given by Jacques Cartier in 

1534- 

The valley of Blanc Sablon is about a mile 
wide at the shore. Near the middle, flowing 
from a lake three or four miles to the north, 
runs a small river of clear, cold water, while 
from the cliffs on the east cascade one or two 
smaller brooks of clearer, colder water. The 
sandstone cliffs on either side of the valley, ex- 
tending up to a height of about three hundred 
and fifty feet, are terraced and precipitous as 
on the faces farther east which are exposed to 
the sea. One might suppose that the valley 
was cut by the stream without any change 
of level of the land, but the series of raised 
beaches on the sea-terraces show as plainly as 
the same formations on the coast we have just 
traversed that elevation of the land here has 
also been going on. It is probable that the river 
has been cutting down and enlarging the valley 
at the same time that the land has been ele- 

249 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

vated, but it also seems probable that the sea 
once entered more deeply than it does now, for 
the raised beaches extend back some distance 
up the valley. Some of the beaches are com- 
posed of great fiat blocks of sandstone which 
are but little rounded; on other beaches at 
higher or lower levels the cobbles are more 
nearly spherical. This would point to a differ- 
ence in the rate of elevation, as some of the 
beaches must have been hurried out of reach 
of the sea before the waves could finish their 
work of making the perfect cobble-stone. On 
the western side of the entrance to the valley 
the raised beaches, six or seven in number, are 
more distinct, and the cobbles are smaller and 
more perfect, showing, as might be expected, 
stronger wave-action than on the more pro- 
tected eastern side. On these beaches I found a 
few granitic cobbles among those of sandstone. 

The bed of the valley, in which the streams 
have meandered back and forth, is a flat, sandy 
plain well covered with vegetation. In one 
place is a small oblong mesa, perhaps forty feet 
high with steep sides, which has escaped the 
erosion of the river. 

Much as I wished for a geologist to show 

250 



BLANC S.VBLON 

me all the Interesting points in the topography 
of this valley, still more I missed the botanist, 
whom I had left at Bradore to return the way 
he came, for here, with two extremely different 
rock formations, — pre-Cambrlan and Cam- 
brian, — there was a variety and a wealth of 
vegetation I had seen nowhere else on the 
Labrador coast. 

Professor M. L. Fernald, who In 19 lo made 
at this point a brief Incursion Into Labrador, 
has most interestingly described the region In 
the pages of ''Rhodora." ^ "Here," he says, 
"was an Ideal place to study the vegetation of 
a highly calcareous region side by side with 
the plants of a siliclous and gnelssold area, and 
if any one doubts the dissimilarities of these 
floras he can find no better spot in which to 
undeceive himself than at Blanc Sablon." 

Like him I was struck by the flat, grassy 
plains on the tops of the terraces, so different 
from the rounded and irregular surfaces of 
the granitic rocks with their wealth of mosses 
and lichens and their comparative paucity of 
grasses. Professor Fernald says: "The com- 

1 M. L. Fernald, "A Botanical Expedition to Newfoundland 
and Southern Labrador," Rhodora, vol. 13 (1911), pp. 109-62. 

251 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

monest flower of these Laurentlan plains is Ca- 
rex rariflora, though with singular regard for 
its specific name it is by all means the rarest of 
"its genus in New England." But the most sur- 
prising feature which is described and figured 
by Professor Fernald is the presence of stumps 
of forest-trees, and with them of a forest veg- 
etation still lingering in the plains now fully 
exposed to the sun. Dwarf cornel, snowberry, 
linnaea, star-flower, clintonia, one-flowered py- 
rola, dwarf Solomon's-seal were most in evi- 
dence, and Professor Fernald mentions also 
such typical forest species as red baneberry, 
Dewey's sedge, great-spurred violet, and sweet- 
scented bedstraw. 

I measured several of the stumps that were 
a foot or two high with great sprawling roots, 
now destitute of bark and blanched by the sun 
and storm, but yet fully a foot in diameter or 
three feet in circumference. Sometimes a pros- 
trate trunk three or four feet long would be 
seen. One pictures an ancient forest very dif- 
ferent from the grassy plains with occasional 
clumps of dwarfed and stunted spruce and fir 
bushes that are here now. 

Professor Fernald was much interested in 
252 



BLANC SABLON 

these stumps. He says: "In such accounts as 
I have found (except possibly Cartler's) the 
coasts of the Straits of Belle Isle are described 
as desolate and bare, and even Cartier, in 1 534, 
entering the Straits and anchoring at Blanc 
Sablon, was so impressed with the barrenness 
that he wrote: 'If the land was as good as the 
harbors there are it would be an advantage; but 
it should not be named the New Land, but [a 
land of] stones and rocks frightful and ill- 
shaped, for in all the said north coast I did not 
see a cart-load of earth, though I landed in 
many places. Except at Blanc Sablon there is 
nothing but moss and small stunted woods; in 
short, I deem, rather than otherwise, that it is 
the land that God gave to Cain ' ; ^ and again 
on his second voyage, in 1535, he wrote: 'The 
whole of the said coast from the Castles as far 
as here [note by Professor Fernald — "From 
Chateau Bay as far as Brest, west of Blanc 
Sablon"] bears east- northeast and west-south- 
west, ranged with numerous islands and lands 
all hacked and stony, without any soil or woods, 
save in some valleys.' ^ And at the present 

^ J. P. Baxter, Memoir of Jacques Car tier (1906), p. 86. 
^ Ibid., p. 130. 

253 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

time the people at Blanc Sablon Insist that 
there never has been any forest there and that 
no timber exists within four or five miles of 
the Straits. Yet, the first day I saw upon the 
terraces east of Blanc Sablon such plants as 
have just been enumerated, I was convinced 
that a forest must have been there, since these 
are so distinctly woodland species and so de- 
cidedly not plants typical of the Arctic barrens 
and tundra. So my delight can be imagined 
when, crossing with Kidder the tableland east 
of Blanc Sablon, we came upon buried logs and 
soon after found numerous stumps protruding 
from the moss. Some of the stumps, now much 
crumbled, were still a foot or more In diameter 
and indicated an ancient forest of considerable 
size. Just when the forest lived It is difficult to 
say, but If It still throve in the sixteenth cen- 
tury Cartier did not give a very clear Indica- 
tion of It. Only by such Indefinite expressions 
as, 'except at Blanc Sablon there is nothing but 
moss and small stunted woods,' and 'without 
any soil or woods, save In some valleys,' did he 
Indicate a possible forest cover. But here at 
least was a remnant of the forest which had 
once sheltered Carex Dewey ana, Actea rubra, 
254 



BLANC SABLON 

and Viola Selkirkii, though at the present time 
only shrubs or dwarf, straggling trees, as de- 
scribed by Cartier, thrive on the bleak and 
wind-swept shores of the Straits of Belle Isle; 
and that the forest was an extensive one and 
presumably once fringed the entire length of 
the Straits we are safe in assuming from the 
presence at Bonne Esperance, L'Anse au Clair, 
Forteau, Red Bay, and Chateau (as shown by 
the collections of John A. Allen and others) of a 
relict forest vegetation (sometimes further aug- 
mented by Onoclea sensihilis, Osmorhiza obtusa, 
Pyrola secunda, etc.) such as abounds on the 
terraces of Blanc Sablon." 

The name of the island near at hand, " lie au 
Bois," hints at the former presence of a forest, 
yet if forests existed in C artier 's time we should 
expect a different account from him. Gur 
knowledge of the history of the Labrador Pen- 
insula since the glaciers melted a few thou- 
sand years ago would negative the possibility 
of a climate or topography that could support 
a forest such as these stumps and woodland 
plants suggest. Moreover, the stumps them- 
selves can hardly date back to Cartier, who 
found "the land that God gave to Cain." 
^55 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

How can we explain the seeming paradox? 
Like many things in nature, the explanation, 
which I chanced upon in a walk over the plains 
to Anse Eclair, is very simple. The answer is, 
There has been no change ; here are forest con- 
ditions at the present day, and here are plenty 
of forest-trees right before our eyes. Where 
the ancient white stumps are so prominent, the 
forest has been cut away, as is apt to be the 
case near settlements, but farther away to the 
east and west along the coast there are regions 
where forest conditions of darkness and quiet 
reign as truly as in the forest aisles where the 
trees rear their heads to the skies and wave and 
sough in the wind. The forest vegetation is the 
same in both cases. 

One is at first disposed to deny these state- 
ments and say there are no trees here, merely 
spruce and fir bushes, insignificant things with 
flat tops clipped as it were by the Arctic blasts, 
but a close examination reveals true forest con- 
ditions. This examination is extremely difficult 
unless one is provided with an axe, or, better 
still, finds a place where wood-cutting has re- 
cently taken place, and the actual habits of the 
wood-cutter can be learned. This gives the key 
256 



BLANC SABLON 

to the situation and at once explains the exist- 
ence of the ancient stumps. From a study of 
a number of partial clearings in various places 
about Blanc Sablon I found that the wood- 
cutter often chooses a spruce or fir bush with a 
large central trunk, first cuts off the branches, 
and then the whole top of the trunk, leaving a 
stump exactly like the stump figured by Pro- 
fessor Fernald, which so irresistibly compels in 
us the conception of a lofty tree, a conception 
which, to a botanist, is rendered still more com- 
pelling by the presence in the neighborhood of 
the stumps of a type of vegetation found only 
in forests. 

I regret that a photograph which I took of 
one of these trees that had been partly cleared 
of branches proved to be one of the mysterious 
failures which happen at times to all except 
superhuman photographers, but I am able to 
give the dimensions of this tree, which it seems 
to me thoroughly sustain my contention. The 
tree was a black spruce with a trunk forty-seven 
inches in circumference one foot from the 
ground. Its diameter was, therefore, about one 
foot, two and a half inches. This size of the 
trunk was maintained nearly to the highest 
257 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

branch, which went off at right angles thirty- 
two inches from the ground. From the center 
to the tip of the branches on all sides was 
nine feet, making a diameter for the whole tree 
of eighteen feet. It* is true that many of the 
clumps of evergreen bushes are made up of a 
number of small trunks, but it is also true, as 
I found, that trunks of the size just described 
were not uncommon. In places the trunks are 
four or even five feet high. When the trees are 
continuous over a considerable area they form 
an almost impassable barrier. Many times, be- 
guiled by a favorable opening, I determined to 
disregard the difficulties and pass through a 
hundred yards or so to open land beyond, when 
I found my progress so barred after a hard 
struggle of a few yards that it seemed an 
economy of both time and effort to walk even 
a mile around, rather than to attempt the 
straight and extremely narrow course. Where 
the trees are only a foot or two high, one can 
walk on their tops, but this is out of the 
question in trees four or five feet high; per- 
haps one might manage it with modified snow- 
shoes! 

To delve beneath those ancient trees — for 

258 



BLANC SABLON 

my former study of tree-rings on the Labrador 
coast assures me that many of these trees must 
be much over a hundred years old and may 
in some cases date back even to Cartier — ■ is 
a difficult task, but one finds here a habitat in 
which forest plants are surely at home. 

There was so much of interest in my journey 
inland on the first afternoon that I wandered 
less than a mile, but I had a most exciting or- 
nithological experience, namely, the discovery 
of song sparrows. As far as I know, the only 
previous record by any one for the song sparrow 
in the whole Labrador Peninsula is at Lake 
Misstassini, and I have always had a lurking 
suspicion, probably erroneous, that there was 
a possibility of error in that record. Certainly 
there were no song sparrows along the coast we 
had traversed. Audubon did not find them and 
no observer has recorded them. There are only 
a very few records for Newfoundland. Cape 
Breton and the Magdalen Islands are generally 
supposed to be the northern limit on the eastern 
coast, yet here in this valley at Blanc Sablon I 
was startled by hearing the familiar song and 
soon saw several birds that were plainly song 
sparrows. It was interesting to find in the same 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

spot three closely related sparrows, — mem- 
bers of the same genus, — the song, swamp, 
and Lincoln's sparrows. 

The next day I explored three miles to the 
eastward, to Anse Eclair. On my way back, 
I startled a pair of snipe, which rose uttering 
rough scalps, flew slowly a few yards with dan- 
gling legs, and dropped again into the grass. 
One of these I flushed again, and this time it 
dropped on mossy ground, where it lay on its 
side and fluttered its wings as if wounded. 
Young birds were doubtless concealed in the 
grass. 

The following day I tramped seven or eight 
miles to the westward, to Long Point and 
Bradore. From Mr. Morrell's fishing-room the 
path leads up over the old terraces and sea- 
beaches with occasional sand-dunes. The fog 
shut in so that I had no distant views, but 
near at hand there was plenty of interest 
— ornithological, botanical, and geological — 
which gave me food for thought. In Shaler's 
Autobiography the following lines by his wife 
should apply to all naturalists: "It was im- 
possible for one to be bored who sought, as he 
did, an explanation of the world about him. 
260 



BLANC SABLON 

. . . With the good earth beneath his feet and 
the Hght of heaven above, the ceaseless puls- 
ing of the sea and the ancient rocks to tell 
their story, he found himself elated. In truth 
he was never lonely in company with his great 
friend and goddess, Nature." 

Near the summit of the pass I came upon 
several redpolls, whose varied call-notes re- 
semble closely those of both species of cross- 
bills and those of the goldfinch. Their song is 
a series of high trills, and the birds were flying 
in irregular circles as they sang. 

The little village of Acadian fishermen at 
Long Point is clustered about the low, rocky 
eminence on which stands the mission church 
of Notre Dame de Lourdes. This is presided 
over by Pere Hesry. To him I paid my re- 
spects and with him I had interesting con- 
verse. His is the most eastern mission of the 
Eudist Brothers on this coast. He enjoys his 
life here among the fishermen, particularly his 
winter travel by komatic, but he is looking for- 
ward to seeing again the dear home country, 
to which he believes that all the banished re- 
ligious orders will be welcome on the spiritual 
awakening after the war. He showed me with 
261 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

great pride the new church he is building, as 
well as the old structure still in use. 

After tearing myself away with an effort 
from the good priest's generous hospitality, I 
continued my solitary way and soon found 
myself among the interesting and familiar sur- 
roundings of sand-dunes, a region known here 
as Anse des Dunes. Outside was a white sand 
beach about a mile long, bordered by the pale- 
green strand wheat, which was growing luxu- 
riantly. A harvest of grain might have been 
gathered here that would have filled many 
otherwise empty bread-boxes. The strand 
wheat extended back but a short distance into 
the dunes, growing scantier and smaller as it 
went, showing its dependence on the brine of 
old Ocean. The dunes were irregularly wind- 
cut and were about a mile wide, piled up in 
places to a height of fifty feet. Their forma- 
tion was the same as In all dune regions, mod- 
ified by the vegetation, which was here for 
the most part very different from that with 
which I was familiar on our New England 
coast. Closely matted carpets of curlew-berry, 
bearberry, oval-leafed blueberry, mountain 
cranberry, and alpine birch in places bound 
262 



BLANC SABLON 

the sand. Again there were somewhat thicker 
carpets of spruce and fir. But what I appre- 
ciated most in this desert region — features 
that I wished could be transported to my 
home dunes at Ipswich, Massachusetts — were 
the brooks of clear, cold water in which trout 
darted to and fro. Inland, beyond the dunes, 
were raised beaches of boulders, low cliffs, and 
again more terraces and raised beaches. 

The path, which had been obscure among 
the dunes and often wiped out by the blowing 
sand, then led me over the higher land some 
distance from the sea, and I suddenly became 
aware of the fact that it was marked by what 
looked for all the world like cart-wheel ruts. 
Anywhere else I should have thought noth- 
ing of it, but here there were no carts and no 
horses, and, as far as I knew, the only animal 
of this description in all the region had lived 
and died some years ago at Natashquan, two 
hundred and fifty miles off. I tried to explain 
the phenomenon in various ways, but learned 
from Mr. Grant that these were in reality cart- 
tracks made many years ago by the horse and 
cart of the wealthy and famous Mr. Jones of 
Audubon's time. Vegetation is of slow growth 
263 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

in these cold regions, and tracks of this sort 
take many years to obliterate. It reminded me 
of a discovery by some Arctic explorer of the 
tracks of a hand-cart at Melville Island made 
by Parry's men over eighty years before. 

While I was pondering over these cart-tracks 
I perceived a dozen ravens on the plain ahead 
of me. Such a number of these birds together 
was new in my experience, and I was anxious 
to assure myself that my diagnosis was cor- 
rect, and that they were not crows. Several 
flew near enough for me to see their charac- 
teristic fan-shaped tails, so different from the 
slightly rounded tail of the crow, but I wished 
to put the final stamp on their identity by 
hearing their voices. They were singularly si- 
lent as they flew away, but one was good enough 
to turn and fly directly towards me and say 
cra-a-kf cra-a-k instead of caw-caw, and then 
I was as sure he was a raven as if he had told 
me his name. 

I planned my arrival at Bradore Bay so as 
to dine on the Sea Star, but, at the house of 
the captain's brother-in-law. Captain Blais, 
I learned that the whole company of the Sea 
Star — captain, first mate, cook, and bota- 

264 



BLANC SABLON 

nist — had gone back into the mountains for 
the day. Captain Blais, one of the splendid 
men of the coast, unfortunately for me had 
not yet arrived for the season. I was made 
welcome at his house, however, and, after a 
good lunch, returned to Blanc Sablon. 

This was Friday night, and I signified my 
intention to the Grant family of giving up all 
ornithological work for the rest of the visit 
and of taking part in any variety of fishing 
occupation they might suggest. I did not, how- 
ever, bind myself to shut my eyes and ears 
to birds, for this was impossible. I was at 
once taken possession of by the younger mem- 
bers of the family, who proposed to initiate me 
into the various branches of Labrador fishing. 
We were taken in a motor-boat that towed a 
"trap skiff" full of men out to haul cod-traps 
near Greenly Island. The cod-trap is a large 
box, as it were, made of nets suspended in the 
water by corks and cask buoys. At one corner 
is an opening, and here a net called a leader, 
some fifty yards long, connects it with the 
shore. The cod, swimming along the coast, 
strike the leader and at once turn to deeper 
water for safety and enter the trap, from which 
265 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

they have not the intelligence to escape. Al- 
though it was six o'clock in the evening and 
the fog was so thick that we could not see the 
shore, on which we could hear the surf pound- 
ing only a short distance away, the light in 
this northern seashore region was so intense 
that I was able to photograph the men as they 
were (^rawing the nets. 

The men begin at one side of the trap and 
haul the nets into the boat, crowding the fish 
in a quivering, struggling mass at the other 
side, whence they are scooped up into the boat 
or lifted up in the net. We had a small haul, 
only about three quintals of fish. 

Saturday morning early we boarded the 
steam-trawler Tommie and started for the 
fishing-grounds. The captain, Sam Elder, had 
learned the business of gill-netting from my 
friend, Mr. Jere Campbell, at Gloucester. The 
net is about a fathom wide and is kept up- 
right at the bottom of the sea by lead weights 
on the lower edge and metal cylinders filled 
with air on the upper edge. It is hauled up 
over the side of the boat by a steam-winch and 
it came up literally crowded with fish entangled 
by their gills and tails in the meshes of the net. 



BLANC SABLON 

All were cod with the exception of a few dog- 
fish — vicious-looking sharks much detested 
by the fishermen — and one or two strange- 
looking blue lumpfish. The men stood by and 
disentangled the cod from the net and pitched 
them into the hold, while the boss himself, 
Mr. Grant, was ready with a boat-hook to fish 
up the loosely attached cod that occasionally 
dropped back into the water. His efforts were 
skillful, but not always successful, and served 
to give a sporting flavor to this rather mo- 
notonous form of fishing. Every now and then 
an interesting starfish or other marine in- 
vertebrate would come up in the net, and I 
was able to make a collection of red seaweeds 
for a botanical friend at Harvard. We hauled 
three miles of net and secured fifteen quintals 
of fish. 

On our return our ardent party of amateur 
fishermen again embarked, this time in a row- 
boat, and were towed by a motor-boat over 
towards He au Bois. Here we were left to drift 
about for an hour or two and we entered into 
a competitive sport of "jigging" for cod. The 
*'jig" is a bright piece of lead, somewhat of 
the shape of a fish, about six inches long, ter- 
267 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

minating in two cod-hooks placed back to back. 
The fisherman lets this down until it touches 
the bottom, withdraws it a foot or two, and 
then proceeds to "jig." He stands erect in the 
boat and quickly draws the line from side to 
side over the gunwale of the boat as far as his 
arm can reach; the jig is then allowed to sink 
back and the process is repeated. A spurt of 
water follows the line; it is wet work and best 
done in oilskins. The cod are attracted by the 
glittering, quickly moving lead, and are liable 
to be hooked anywhere in their anatomy. We 
caught sixty-six fish and then started to row 
back, but the considerate "boss" sent out the 
Tommie to tow us in. 

That afternoon it was proposed that the 
whole household should go for a picnic supper 
up to the waterfall of one of the small brooks 
that flowed down the terraces. A large frying- 
pan formed the chief part of the equipment, 
and I discovered that I was the only one to 
bring a fishing-rod. However, my task was 
an easy one and much pleasanter than jigging 
for cod. I stood on a little gravelly beach be- 
side a deep pool just below the falls, and had 
the pleasure of finding that each of my casts, 
268 



BLANC SABLON 

no matter how unskillful, was greeted uproar- 
iously, so to speak, by the trout, who vied 
with each other for the distinction of hooking 
themselves. They seemed to like to jump from 
the water and seize the flies from above. In a 
short time I caught thirty trout, mostly half- 
or three-quarter-pounders, more than enough 
for all of us to eat. They were not wasted, 
however, and we took the remainder home for 
breakfast. Tea and trout, pie and "pork cake,''^ 
made a good supper, and were much enjoyed 
after our fishing day. It is true that it rained 
a little, and the black flies were so thick that 
a smudge was necessary. I had hardly no- 
ticed them in the excitement of fishing. Mr. 
Grant was the only one of the household miss- 
ing on this picnic, but from our elevated posi- 
tion on the terraces we had seen him start out 
twice from the house, and each time unex- 
pectedly return. He told us afterwards that 
the flies were too thick for him. 

Sunday was a day of rest, rain, and fog 
with no chance of the arrival of the Meigle, 



1 I have since learned that the "pork cake" of Labrador, 
made without eggs, milk, or butter, is the now well-known 
"war cake." 

269 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR • 

and I ate a big Sunday dinner, but not of 
the regulation kind. Dried capelin, rabbit, — 
the big Northern hare canned in winter, — ■ 
boiled turnip-tops, and steamed blackberry- 
pudding, all washed down with spruce beer. 
The pudding was made with curlew-berries, 
or blackberries as they are called here, and it 
was very good. In the evening there was serv- 
ice in the dried-fish storehouse, from the belfry 
of which rang the bell that in old times had 
summoned the fishermen to their daily grog. 
Mr. Edward Hunt, the young Church-of- 
England theological student from St. John's, 
who was spending the summer at the missions 
along the coast, read the service in an admir- 
able manner. There were vigorous responses 
and hearty singing by the men. 

On the afternoon of Monday, August 2, in 
one of the lucid intervals of the fog, the Meigle's 
horn was heard blowing, and I bade good-bye 
to my hospitable friends. I turned away from 
Labrador with very different feelings from 
those of Audubon, who recorded in his Jour- 
nal, "Seldom in my life have I left a country 
with as little regret as I do this," — but he 
had not been visiting the Grants! 
270 



BLANC SABLON 

'Those hardy days flew cheerily, 
And when they now fall drearily, 
My thoughts, like swallows, skim the main 
And bear my spirit back again, 
A wild bird and a wanderer." 



CHAPTER XIII 

CONSERVATION IN LABRADOR 

IN the foregoing pages I have referred to the 
great waste of natural resources that is 
going on everywhere along the coast of the 
Labrador Peninsula. It seems worth while 
to gather up the scattered threads and weave 
them in this chapter into a connected whole. 
It is possible that much could be done in 
the conservation of the chief industries of the 
coast — that the harvest of cod, salmon, hali- 
but, herring, and capelin could be made more 
abundant and less uncertain from year to 
year by modern methods of fish-culture and 
fish-capture. There is no doubt that these 
fish could be utilized with less waste than 
at present. Cods' tongues, for example, now 
thrown away, could be canned and form a 
by-product of considerable value. The cods' 
livers are rarely so treated as to produce a 
high-priced medicinal oil. At most places 
along the coast the livers are thrown into 
barrels to rot and the resulting dark cod-oil 
272 



CONSERVATION IN LABRADOR 

Is of inferior value and can be used only for 
commercial purposes. There is no reason why 
Labrador cod-liver-oil should not be as good 
and as famous as the Norwegian cod-liver-oil 
and command as high a price. 

Capelin are small fish about the size of smelts 
and of considerable food-value. They school in 
enormous quantities on the coast; the water 
appears at times to be literally filled with this 
dark, almost transparent, fish, and they often 
pack together in great masses in the cod-traps 
or strand in shallow water. Owing to their 
abundance, they are not appreciated as they 
should be, but are generally cast aside or they 
are salted and dried so carelessly that large 
quantities spoil. Both fresh and dried they 
are excellent eating, but are generally con- 
sidered only as food for dogs. As cod-bait they 
have few equals, but they may be absent at 
the critical time when they are needed. It 
would be very easy and inexpensive to pro- 
vide cold-storage rooms packed with snow for 
capelin, which would be ready whenever bait 
was needed. A large export industry in dried 
capelin could also be built up as soon as 
the food-value and excellence of this fish were 
273 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

generally known. As a smoked or canned pro- 
duct the possibilities are also large. Yet one 
sees many tons of this valuable fish destroyed 
and wasted along the coast. 

Even such fish as flounders and dogfish, now 
thrown away, would be found of value. To 
one familiar with the excellence of the flounder 
as food it is a surprise to read, as I did in Au- 
gust, 1 91 5, an editorial in a St. John's paper 
calling the attention of the Newfoundlanders 
to the obvious fact that the flounder is an 
edible fish and should not be used as a ferti- 
lizer. Dogfish — small sharks — do great dam- 
age to the fishing-industries, as they eat the 
bait on the bultows or trawls, damage the nets, 
and destroy countless fish. They are taken 
out of the nets by the fishermen, knocked on 
the head, and thrown into the sea as worse 
than useless, but they are of considerable food- 
value, and are much appreciated by those who 
have tried them. Dogfish have large livers 
which are of value in the production of fish- 
oil, and as a last resort these fish make excel- 
lent fertilizer. A considerable saving would 
result if the people of the coast should ac- 
custom themselves to the use for their own 
274 



CONSERVATION IN LABRADOR 

table of the cheaper but excellent fish, such 
as capelin, flounders, and dogfish, and should 
reserve the more valuable cod for export. These 
cheaper fish, if properly salted and dried, could 
also be stored away for winter use. 

During the fishing-season the waters of the 
harbors are lined with tons of fish viscera, 
heads, and backbones, all rich in nitrogen and 
of great value as plant-food. As long ago as 
1855 Lord Strathcona, then Donald Alexan- 
der Smith, discussed plans for the manufac- 
ture of fish manure. The annual product of 
the North American cod-fisheries was then 
estimated to be one and a half million tons 
of fresh fish. 

He says: "Not less than one half of this is 
refuse thrown back into the sea, or left on the 
shore to decay, and yet capable of yielding 
150,000 tons of a valuable manure, almost half 
that annually produced by Peru. . . . The waste 
of fish on this coast is enormous and is only 
comparable to the waste of buffalo in the Far 
West. Every ton of fish is equal to at least 
three head of cattle or fifteen sheep, and 
Labrador yields millions of quintals annu- 
ally." 

275 



IN AUDUBON'S LABEADOR 

In 1884 the value of fish-guano produced In 
Nova Scotia amounted to over $22,000, and, 
in New Brunswick, to over $43,000. 

The lobsters of the Labrador coast are of 
the best quality, and nowhere are better 
canned lobsters put up than In that region. 
The lobster-fisheries are wastefully managed. 
It would be difficult in these remote canneries 
to enforce a law against the use of "shorts," 
but I have always believed that a law requir- 
ing the lobster-pots to have an opening defi- 
nitely limited In size would be practical and 
advantageous. All lobsters over a certain size 
would then be unable to enter the pots, and It 
is the large lobsters that are the most produc- 
tive of their kind. Inspection of the lobster- 
pots would be simpler and easier than Inspec- 
tion of the catch. 

The appalling wastes that are a part of the 
present methods of spring sealing on the Ice 
can only be mentioned here. Every year tens 
of thousands of seal-carcasses are stripped of 
their hides and fat and abandoned In the 
same way that the carcasses of the buffalo, de- 
stroyed for their tongues and their hides, were 
abandoned In the West. As a result, the same 
876 



CONSERVATION IN L.iBRADOR 

fate that befell the buffalo awaits the seal. In 
addition to this waste, many thousands of the 
seal-pelts are lost annually by the breaking- 
up of the ice before they can be placed on 
board the sealers. This is expected; chances 
must be taken, for the slaughtering competi- 
tion is keen. Even in the shore fisheries the 
meat is often wasted, or, if saved, is given to 
the dogs. As I have said, it is a meat of pleas- 
ant flavor, tender, and of great food-value 
for human consumption. Stores of seal-steaks 
packed in snow for the winter, and drawn on 
from time to time, would supply plenty of ex- 
cellent proteid food and prevent beri-beri and 
scurvy along the coast. 

The uncertainty and waste in the trapping 
of fur-bearing animals is a strong argument 
in favor of the raising of these animals in 
captivity. The climate is well adapted to the 
purpose, and the fur, in consequence, is of 
the best quality. The starting of a black fox 
ranch is expensive. Even if a poor man is for- 
tunate enough to catch a black fox alive, he 
cannot afford to run the risk of its loss in cap- 
tivity, and must sell it as soon as possible. 
There is, however, a profit in the raising of red 
277 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

foxes and various other fur-bearing animals 
without so much initial expense and without 
the risk of so much loss. Experiments in mink- 
raising have recently been made by the Bio- 
logical Survey of the United States Depart- 
ment of Agriculture, and their success for com- 
mercial purposes is reported. The animal is 
polygamous and breeds rapidly at the age of 
one year, and its fur is marketable at a year 
and a half. It can be fed the same food as is 
given a cat. Many Labradorians, to whom black 
fox farming seems entirely beyond their reach, 
would, with a little instruction and encour- 
agement, welcome such a means of livelihood. 
There are doubtless other fur-bearers that 
could profitably be reared in captivity for 
their skins. Muskrats are extremely prolific, 
and the black form, which is occasionally 
found in Labrador, has a fur of great beauty 
and considerable value. The raising of fur- 
bearing animals need not in any way inter- 
fere with the principal industry of the coast, 
— namely, cod-fishing, — for its chief duties 
would occupy the people during the long win- 
ter when there is least to be done ; in the sum- 
mer the women and children could care for the 
278 



CONSERVATION IN LABRADOR 

animals when the men were engaged in fish- 
ing. If the dogs were replaced by reindeer, 
— • a consummation devoutly to be wished, 
and a subject I have already discussed, — the 
food formerly used for them would be avail- 
able for carnivorous fur-bearing animals. 

It is probable that agriculture on a large 
scale will always be unprofitable on the Cana- 
dian, and still more on the Newfoundland, 
Labrador coast. The soil is scanty and poor, 
often entirely absent; the summer season is 
short and liable to interruption by frost at 
any time. The earliest green leaf to unfold is 
that of the wild currant, and at Esquimaux 
Point in 1909 I found the first currant leaf 
on May 26. Cartwright, in 1771, at Cape 
Charles records the first currant leaf on May 
21. Ice often lingers along the shores of the 
eastern part of the southern coast into July, 
and by the latter part of August autumn is in 
the air. Nevertheless, there is no doubt that 
with careful selection of short-season species 
of food-plants, such as have been introduced 
so successfully, after government experimen- 
tation, in Alaska, agriculture, to a limited but 
very important extent, might flourish here. 
279 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

The Government of the Province of Quebec 
has already made some effort to show the peo- 
ple how this may be done. The river-valleys 
but a short distance from the sea not only 
have a much milder climate, as is shown by the 
forests and the bird-life, but often contain an 
abundance of fertile soil in natural meadows. 
Thorough drainage operations would convert 
large areas of bog into arable land and at 
the same time rid these places of the pest of 
mosquitoes. In the Amur district in Siberia 
similar bog country has been made productive 
even in regions where the ground is perma- 
nently frozen to a great depth. ^ 

The gardens of Mr. Morrell at Blanc Sa- 
blon, of the Eudist fathers at Natashquan, and 
of M. Johan Beetz at Piashte Bay, described 
in these pages, are examples of what can be 
accomplished directly on the coast. Even so 
long ago as the eighteenth century, Captain 
George Cartwright set an example which 
might well be imitated by the Labradorians 
of to-day. He not only raised in his house in 
winter cress and mustard as a salad and pre- 
ventive of scurvy, but he made many careful 

* See Through Siberia, by Fridtjof Nansen. 
280 



CONSERVATION IN LABRADOR 

experiments In garden-growing and in the use 
of fish-refuse and seaweed as fertilizers. He 
says: "My garden in Isthmus Bay, which, the 
reader would observe, produced excellent crops 
the first year, by being manured with seaweed 
and offals of fish ; and also by mixing a greater 
portion of the barren sand that lay under- 
neath, among the peat soil on the surface, it 
has since, I have been informed, brought every- 
thing to a degree of perfection, which had never 
been seen in that part of the world, in any 
former year." ^ Isthmus Bay is on the east- 
ern coast near the entrance of Sandwich Bay, 
where the climate is much more severe than 
in the Canadian Labrador. 

The natural luxuriant growth of strand 
wheat along the sandy shores shows what can 
be done if proper plants are chosen. In Ice- 
land the grain of the strand wheat is used in 
making bread. I cannot insist too strenuously 
on the importance of using some other cereal 
food than the universal finely bolted white 
flour. Dr. John Mason Little, Jr.,^ has shown 

1 Captain Cartwright and his Labrador Journal (1909), p. 
360. 

2 Journal of the American Medical Association (1912), vol. 
58, p. 2029. 

281 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

that, as the exclusive use of polished rice in 
Japan is productive of beri-beri, so the same 
disease is caused in Labrador by the use of 
white flour. I was interested to find in my trip 
up the Natashquan River in 19 12 that the 
men were much pleased with my supplies of 
Indian meal and brown rice. They had never 
tasted them before, and, to my surprise, pre- 
ferred them to the white flour, which was al- 
most untouched. 

Many miles farther north in Labrador, at 
the North- West River Post of the Hudson's 
Bay Company, the enterprising Donald Alex- 
ander Smith, in the fifties and sixties of the 
last century, made a model farm on an ex- 
tensive scale. The trappers and fishermen, 
who at first scoffed, were later filled with as- 
tonishment and admiration. Seed, poultry, 
and hardy cattle he obtained from the Ork- 
neys, horses and sheep from Canada. The soil 
he enriched with fish-offal, and he cultivated 
seven acres, some of which was under glass. 

For fertilizers decayed seaweed and fish- 
refuse are both excellent and ready at hand. 
It has been supposed that guano could be ob- 
tained in Labrador from the islands where the 
282 



CONSERVATION IN LABRADOR 

sea-birds breed, but this is not the case. The 
frequent rains and the freezing and thawing 
prevent the accumulation such as is found in 
dry cHmates hke that of Peru. 

The water-power of the country is enor- 
mous and the possibiHties in the production 
of wood-pulp are great. It is sincerely to be 
hoped that the proper forestry restrictions will 
be placed on the latter industry, as is now 
voluntarily done at Clark City in the Bay of 
Seven Islands, and that the country will not 
be ruthlessly stripped and left a rocky desert. 

As regards mineral wealth, there are serious 
doubts as to its existence in paying quantities 
in the Labrador Peninsula. 

But what lies nearest to my heart is the 
subject of bird-conservation, which is so sadly 
needed on the coast of Labrador. In the latter 
part of the eighteenth century, in the time of 
Cartwright, water-birds swarmed along the 
coast. The Eskimos and the Indians, the polar 
bears and the raptorial birds, served but to 
keep the bird-colonies in healthy condition. 
The white man is more systematic in his 
methods and more thorough when he is stimu- 
lated by the expectation of financial gains, and, 
283 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

if conservation is not practiced, he will event- 
ually exterminate the creatures of his quest. 
This was true in the case of the buffalo, the 
great auk, and the passenger pigeon, and the 
same fate awaits many other beasts and birds. 
In Audubon's day the despoilers of Labrador 
bird-rookeries plied their trade without let or 
hindrance. Audubon was filled with sorrow on 
observing their cruel methods and their ruth- 
less destruction of his beloved bird-life. He 
writes: — 

"See yon shallop, shyly sailing along; she 
sneaks like a thief wishing, as it were, to shun 
the very light of heaven. Under the lee of 
every rocky isle some one at the tiller steers 
her course. . . . 

"There rides the filthy thing! The after- 
noon is half over. Her crew have thrown their 
boat overboard, they enter and seat themselves, 
each with a rusty gun. One of them sculls the 
skiff towards an island for a century past a 
breeding-place of myriads of Guillemots, which 
are now to be laid under contribution. At the 
approach of the vile thieves, clouds of birds 
rise from the rock and fill the air around, wheel- 
ing and screaming over their enemies. Yet 



CONSERVATION IN LABRADOR 

thousands remain in an erect posture, each 
covering Its single egg, the hope of both par- 
ents. The reports of several muskets loaded 
with heavy shot are now heard, while several 
dead and wounded birds fall heavily on the 
rock, or into the water. Instantly all the sit- 
ting birds rise and fly off affrighted to their 
companions above, and hover in dismay over 
their assassins, who walk forward exultingly, 
and with their shouts mingling oaths and exe- 
crations. Look at them! See how they crush 
the chick within its shell, how they trample on 
every egg in their way with their huge and 
clumsy boots. Onward they go, and when they 
leave the isle, not an egg that they can find is 
left entire. The dead birds they collect and 
carry to their boat. . . . 

"The light breeze enables them to reach 
another harbor a few miles distant, one which, 
like the last, lies concealed from the ocean by 
some other rocky isle. Arrived there, they 
re-act the scene of yesterday, crushing every 
egg they can find. For a week each night 
is passed in drunkenness and brawls, until, 
having reached the last breeding-place on the 
coast, they return, touch at every isle in suc- 
985 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

cession, shoot as many birds as they need, 
collect the fresh eggs, and lay in a cargo. At 
every step each ruffian picks up an egg so 
beautiful that any man with a feeling heart 
would pause to consider the motive which 
could induce him to carry it off. But noth- 
ing of this sort occurs to the egger, who gath- 
ers and gathers until he has swept the rock 
bare. The dollars alone chink in his sordid 
mind, and he assiduously plies the trade which 
no man would ply who had the talents and 
industry to procure subsistence by honorable 
means." 

Mr. M. Abbott Frazar in 1884 was much 
impressed with the destruction of bird-life by 
the fishermen. He says: "During the week 
the men are all busy out in their dories fish- 
ing, but their Sundays are their own and are 
generally spent on the islands gathering eggs 
and shooting birds, and they stop at nothing, 
but shoot everything that flies whether eatable 
or not, and shoot just for the sport they find 
in destruction; and as they keep it up dur- 
ing the whole season the poor birds have but 
a slim show." He also saw a few Halifax eggers 
on the coast. 

286 



CONSERVATION IN LABRADOR 

Mr. D. N. Saint-Cyr * visited the Canadian 
Labrador coast in 1882 and 1885. He says; 
"It is unfortunately too true that certain set- 
tlers on the coast, but more especially stran- 
gers, from Nova Scotia, from the State of 
Maine, and the Island of Newfoundland, pil- 
lage the sea-birds' eggs, which they carry off to 
sell in their own country. These years past as 
many as thirty schooners have been counted, 
engaged in obtaining loads of wild birds' eggs 
in the islands of the gulf, and, to make mat- 
ters worse, when these pillagers observe that 
the eggs are hatching, they break them, in 
order that the old birds may lay more. Then 
all these fresh eggs are taken away, and it is 
thus that thousands upon thousands are de- 
stroyed every year." 

The visits of the Halifax eggers for com- 
mercial purposes have long since ceased, but 
the robbery of eggs and the destruction of 
nesting birds still continue. The conditions 
as I found them on my four trips to the Lab- 
rador Peninsula, which have included a sur- 
vey of eleven hundred miles of the coast from 
the Bay of Seven Islands to Nain, are most 
^ Sessional Papers, No. 37. (Quebec, 1886.) f 
287 



m AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

deplorable, and are rapidly leading to the utter 
extinction of the water-birds. Spring shooting 
confined to migratory birds, although unde- 
sirable, is not so pernicious in its effects as 
the shooting of birds on their arrival at their 
breeding-grounds. This is practiced in the 
case of all the birds that nest on the coast. At 
Perroquet Island, in Bradore Bay, for exam- 
ple, the arrival of the puffins or perroquets in 
the spring is eagerly awaited by the inhabit- 
ants, who make the occasion a great shooting 
holiday. They encamp for several days on the 
island and shoot down the poor birds as they 
fly in a bewildered manner round and round 
their homes. I was told by one man with 
great glee that he sometimes shot two hundred 
birds in a day. He added that the wounded 
birds were generally lost, as they crawled into 
the nesting-holes. 

I myself in 1909 witnessed, on another island 
where puffins bred, this cruel sport. The birds, 
bewildered and frightened by the shooting, 
circled about the island, and were picked off 
by the gunner as they flew past. At Perroquet 
Island the boys who have no guns lie behind 
the rocks and strike down the birds with long 
288 



CONSERVATION IN LABRADOR 

poles. The whole village feasts on the puffins 
and many are wasted or given to the dogs. 
Throughout the summer the island is visited by- 
fishermen, who not only shoot the birds, but 
also dig them out of the nesting-holes and se- 
cure them in nets spread over the holes. In any 
case the young are left to. perish. The New- 
foundland fishermen are undoubtedly the worst 
offenders in egg and bird destruction, but the 
people of the coast are not far behind. The for- 
mer are absolutely regardless of consequences 
for the birds, but the people of the coast in some 
few cases are careful not to disturb the birds 
after the first eggs have been appropriated. 
The cases related in Chapter vi of the island 
near Pointe au Maurier, where ring-billed gulls 
breed, is an example. Here for many years the 
sole family living at this place have been in 
the habit of looking to the island for a supply 
of fresh eggs, but they never disturb the birds 
after the first set of eggs has been taken. The 
bird-colony has in consequence suffered no dim- 
inution, and has even increased in numbers. 

The shooting of female eider ducks as they 
leave their nests involves, of course, the loss of 
the broods. The eggs themselves may be dis- 
289 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

carded on account of the advanced stage of in- 
cubation. The fishermen take the eggs to a 
pool of water and save only those that sink. 
The ones that float contain partly or wholly 
formed young and are thrown away. If the 
men intend to stay near the breeding-place for 
a few days, they destroy all the eggs so that a 
fresh lot may be laid for them to appropriate. 

Nesting murres and auks are shot or killed 
with clubs. Most of these birds are eaten, but 
nesting gulls, terns, and cormorants are often 
shot for the cruel pleasure and practice of the 
sport and left where they fall. It is almost 
inconceivable that men should destroy such 
exquisite creatures as terns and gulls without 
even intending to pick them up and look at 
them, and it is a sad commentary on humanity 
that such "sport" — God save the mark! — is 
not infrequently indulged in by men of educa- 
tion and supposed refinement. I have known 
men of this class to hold up their hands in hor- 
ror at an ornithologist who had shot a small 
bird for the distinct object of study and of 
addition to human knowledge. Another cruel 
sport that is frequently practiced by thought- 
less people is the firing of guns near rookeries 
^90 






DOUBLE-CRESTED CORMORANTS LEAVING THEIR NESTS AT GULL 
ISLAND OFF CAPE WHITTLE 



^^^^^Sir.., 









DOUBLE-CRESTED CORMORANTS AND MURRES 



CONSERVATION IN LABRADOR 

for the purpose of seeing the frightened birds 
jump from their eggs. As a result the cHffs 
of Cape Whittle are now nearly deserted by 
birds. 

I obtained from reliable sources, often from 
the offenders themselves, who seemed to be 
entirely unconscious of the enormity of their 
offenses, numerous reports of great quantities 
of murres' and eiders' eggs collected for their 
own consumption by the crews of fishing and 
trading schooners. Many of these vessels are 
scantily or poorly provisioned and make up for 
this by inroads on the birds. Up to a few years 
ago a dozen barrels of murres' eggs have been 
collected by a crew of twenty men in less than 
an hour from one island. As many of the terri- 
fied nesting birds are clubbed and killed as pos- 
sible. The manner in which bird-life is squan- 
dered at such times is almost too terrible to be 
thought of. 

Besides the eggs and nesting birds, the young 
of several species of water-birds, particularly of 
the great black-backed gull, are eagerly sought 
for the table. Sometimes the young are con- 
fined in coops and fattened before killing. The 
fact that this gull sometimes destroys young 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

elders and the eggs of nesting birds is often 
seized upon by these men as an excuse for de- 
stroying both old and young of this species, but 
the majority seek no excuse. 

The recent adoption and increasing use of 
motor-boats has greatly increased the destruc- 
tion of birds. Fishermen are enabled to trav- 
erse much greater areas of the coast, to reach 
distant islands where birds are nesting, and 
more readily to approach birds on the water. 
Going to and from the fishing-ground, the 
motor-boat enables its owner to take wide d6- 
tours and gather cargoes of eggs and nesting 
birds. When sails and oars are used, these out- 
of-the-way spots are fairly safe. 

The destruction wrought by the Indians dur- 
ing their summer sojourn on the coast is increas- 
ing as other sources of food are diminishing. 

If the treatment of the bird-population in 
Canadian Labrador, where there are laws and 
game-wardens, is bad, that in Newfoundland 
Labrador, where there appear to be neither, 
is still worse. In 1906 I found a bad state of 
affairs ^ and a rapidly diminishing water-bird 

^ See Along the Labrador Coast, chap, xi, "Audubon and the 
Need of an Audubon Society in Labrador." 



CONSERVATION IN LABRADOR 

population. Mr. A. C. Bent, who visited this 
coast in the summer of 191 2, says: "I had 
heard that the sea-birds on the Labrador coast 
were disappearing, but was not prepared to find 
them so scarce as they proved to be. They seem 
to have decreased very decidedly during the 
past few years, and, unless something can be 
done to protect them, many species will soon 
have disappeared entirely. Their nests are 
robbed frequently all through the summer by 
the resident white people, by the Eskimos, and 
by the large number of Newfoundland fisher- 
men that visit the coast in the summer. The 
birds are also shot freely for food at all seasons 
of the year." ^ 

The whole outlook is, indeed, a gloomy one. 
It was thoroughly understood by Audubon in 
1833. He says: "Nature herself seems perish- 
ing. Labrador must shortly be depeopled, not 
only of aboriginal man, but of all else having 
life, owing to man's cupidity. When no more 
fish, no more game, no more birds exist on her 
hills, along her coasts, and in her rivers, then 
she will be abandoned and deserted like a worn- 
out field." 

^ Bird-Lore (1913), vol. XV, p. 11. 
293 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

It is an old custom, and the wastefulness and 
'terrible cruelty of it all does not appear to pene- 
trate to those men's consciences. The people 
who live along the coast and the fishermen who 
come from a distance have always been in the 
habit of taking eggs and killing the birds for 
food. They regard it as their right, and, al- 
though some of them will admit that the waste- 
ful methods used are fast destroying the birds, 
they are not willing to refrain from these meth- 
ods. They say, with reason, that if they do not 
take these eggs or young gulls or shoot these 
nesting ducks some one else will. It is each man 
for himself and the devil take the hindermost. 
After us the deluge. Annihilation is the fate of 
the birds: the eider and the murre will go the 
way of the Labrador duck and the great auk. 
Birds that nest in crevices in the rocks, like 
black guillemots and razor-billed auks, will last 
longer, but the end is in sight for all. 

It is a truism that laws out of sympathy with 
the feelings of people will not be kept. Laws 
against egging or shooting out of season can- 
not be enforced on the long and intricate coast 
of Labrador. Wardens who intend to do their 
duty and arrest and prosecute offenders will 



CONSERVATION IN LABRADOR 

be looked upon as enemies to be avoided and 
cheated, and this by an otherwise law-abiding 
people. 

There Is one very simple means which might 
help in enforcing the present laws in Canadian 
Labrador. Newfoundland fishermen, who are 
the most reckless offenders, are obliged to ob- 
tain licenses to fish in Canadian waters. The 
law requires that they not only obey the game 
laws, but that they also take out at some ex- 
pense licenses to carry guns and shoot. If the 
presence of an unlicensed gun on a fishing- 
schooner or the detection in egging be made 
a sufficient reason for canceling the fishing- 
license, one of the great sources of bird-de- 
struction will be diminished, but not by any 
means stopped. It is easy to conceal guns and 
etude wardens on this coast. 

The open season for shooting should be intel- 
ligently planned for different parts of the coast 
and should be strictly limited to the periods 
when the birds are migrating. It is, of course, 
illogical to have the same open season at Blanc 
Sablon as at Nain where birds nest several 
weeks later. These suggestions if adopted may 
be of some value, may delay for a little the 
295 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

rapid progress towards annihilation of water- 
bird life in Labrador. That these or any similar 
measures will prevent this dreaded consumma- 
tion I do not believe. 

What, then, is to be done? Is there no hope 
for the birds and for the people to whom the 
birds are such a valuable asset? I think there is. 
I believe that the whole problem can be solved 
most rationally and satisfactorily for all con- 
cerned by the immediate establishment of bird 
reservations. These should be islands or groups 
of islands or suitable portions of the main coast 
that can be watched by guardians. Here the 
birds should be undisturbed and allowed to 
nest and feed in peace. The people should be 
made to understand that these reservations are 
not established to cut down their hunting, and 
thereby invite poaching and violation of the 
laws, but for the purpose of preserving and 
increasing the birds so that there shall be bet- 
ter shooting for everybody on the coast. 

A campaign of education is necessary, there- 
fore, and I believe that the bird reservation 
will do good in making the people understand 
not only the need of bird-conservation, but its 
advantages. The game-wardens will be looked 

296 



CONSERVATION IN LABRADOR 

upon, not as enemies to be avoided and cheated, 
but as friends who are working for the people's 
good. If the matter is well managed, the peo- 
ple will regard their reservations with pride, 
and public opinion will keep the birds there 
inviolate. The wasted regions near fishing-vil- 
lages, now devoid of all sea-bird life on the 
one hand, and the crowded bird reservations 
on the other, will be powerful object-lessons in 
this process of education. I would suggest the 
placing of a brief notice on each reservation, 
printed in English, as well as in French, Mon- 
tagnais, and Eskimo, where these languages 
are used, worded somewhat as follows: — 
BIRD RESERAVTION 

The purpose of this Reservation is to preserve the 
birds from destruction and to increase their num- 
bers so that there will be better shooting on the coast. 
The people are asked not to disturb the birds or their 
eggs on this Reservation and to avoid the use of guns 
in its neighborhood. 

There are a number of places that could be 
named, some of which have responsible men 
living near who could be made guardians. For 
example, on the Canadian Labrador coast I 
would suggest one of the islands at the mouth 
of the Bay of Seven Islands; the Perroquet 
297 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

Islands off Long Point, Mingan, where the 
lighthouse-keeper could be put in charge; Sea- 
Cow Island and the small islands in its neigh- 
borhood, near Esquimaux Point; an island at 
Betchewan; one at Piashte Bay; one or two at 
Natashquan; a strip of the sandy shore near 
the lighthouse at Natashquan Point; Triple Is- 
land off Romaine; Outer and Gull Islands and 
the cliffs of Cape Whittle; Gull Island at Pointe 
au Maurier where the interesting colony of ring- 
billed gulls breed; St. Mary's Islands with their 
lighthouse; one of the Harrington group of is- 
lands; Treble Hill Island and Flat Island off 
Great Mecattina; some of the islands of Ke- 
carpoui and islands near Shecatica and Old 
Fort; and lastly, and very important, the fa- 
mous Perroquet Island in Bradore Bay. On the 
Newfoundland Labrador similar scattered res- 
ervations should be made. These scattered 
reservations are, it seems to me, more impor- 
tant and more easily kept sacred than large 
ones such as the sixty-four miles of coast be- 
tween Cape Whittle and Mecattina suggested 
by Colonel William Wood in his admirable 
address in 191 1 on "Animal Sanctuaries in 
Labrador." 

298 



CONSERVATION IN LABRADOR 

Some of these islands are now nearly depopu- 
lated of birds, but the birds can be trusted to 
find out where they are safe. On the coast of 
the United States where reservations have been 
established, sometimes close to great cities, the 
birds that are elsewhere very shy and wary are 
tame and confiding. I would also suggest that 
the guardian of the reservation be instructed in 
the eider-down industry as detailed in the next 
chapter, and that a beginning of this industry 
be made on the reservations both to eke out the 
small stipend of the guardian and as an object- 
lesson to the people. 

If the reservation movement is well managed 
so that the people are in sympathy with it, it 
will be a success and one may look forward 
to many benefits as a result. First and funda- 
mentally, the birds will be saved from extinc- 
tion. This fact may not appeal to the people, 
but the improvement in the shooting during the 
migrations will be welcomed as a great boon. 
The introduction of the eider-down industry, 
which I believe will follow the reservation move- 
ment, should add a large sum yearly to the in- 
come of the people of the coast. Another desir- 
able result of the reservations will be to make 
299 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

the coast more attractive to tourists in general 
and to ornithologists in particular, and they 
will help the people in several ways. They will 
necessarily spend money along the coast, will 
introduce better transportation facilities, and 
new and better ideas of living. To ornitholo- 
gists ever3rwhere it will be an enormous relief 
to know that the great destruction of bird-life, 
so vividly portrayed by Audubon, is at last 
stayed and the wonderful bird-nurseries of Lab- 
rador are again assuming their rightful function. 



CHAPTER XIV 

A PLEA FOR THE CONSERVATION OF THE 
EIDER ^ 

THE treatment of that magnificent duck 
the eider {Somateria dresseri) along our At- 
lantic coast is rapidly leading to its extermi- 
nation. This duck, which is locally known as 
sea duck, laying duck, shoreyer, Eskimo duck^ 
moynak, and metic, is ever3rwhere diminish- 
ing in numbers. In Maine they were at one 
time reduced to a few pairs, but, by enforce- 
ment of laws and by reservations watched over 
by wardens, they are beginning to increase. 
I believe there are only two or three cases of 
their breeding at the present time on the Nova 
Scotia coast. On the Newfoundland coast 
their numbers are pitifully few where once 
they abounded. The coast of Labrador for- 
merly swarmed with these birds, and the is- 
lands were thickly covered with their nests. 
All the ornithologists from the time of Audu- 

1 Read at the meeting of the American Ornithologists' 
Union, November ii, 1913, and reprinted by permission from 
The Auk (1914), vol. xxxi, p. 14. 

301 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

bon to the present day who have visited this 
coast have bewailed the fact that the eider 
was singled out for destruction. 

In 1906 Dr. G. M. Allen and I saw only 
about seventy of these birds on the long stretch 
of the eastern coast of Labrador between Battle 
Harbor and Hamilton Inlet. This is a region 
that is visited by a large number of Newfound- 
land fishermen in summer, and its coast is 
dotted with the fishing-hamlets of the resi- 
dents, or liveyeres, as they are called. The men 
know every nook and cranny of the coast, 
shoot the birds in great numbers in both fall 
and spring migrations, take their eggs and 
down whenever they find them, and even shoot 
the setting females. In visiting their fishing- 
traps in the height of the breeding-season 
they often take their guns along with them, 
so that few birds escape. North of Hamilton 
Inlet the Northern eider {Somateria mollissima 
borealis) is persecuted by the Eskimos of the 
Moravian villages as well as by the fishermen. 

The same condition of affairs exists on the 

southern coast, where eiders are persecuted 

not only by the white fishermen, but also by 

the Montagnais Indians, who, after disposing 

302 



CONSERVATION OF THE EIDER 

of their furs, the result of their winter's work, 
cruise along the coast in sailboat and canoe and 
feast on the eider eggs and flesh. 

In 1909 Mr. A. C. Bent and I found the 
ground about the Indians' encampments cov- 
ered with eider egg shells, and we saw eider 
flesh being dried and smoked by the fires. Two 
men, who were ranging over the islands with 
pails, had collected a hundred eggs in less than 
an hour's time. William Brewster described the 
method used by these Indians in 1881: "They 
skirt the shores in canoes, keeping as close 
to land as the depth of water will permit. 
Meanwhile their dogs scent about among the 
trees quartering the ground like trained setters, 
and when a nest is discovered announce the 
fact by loud barking. The nests are usually 
within a few rods of the water, and the scent 
of the dogs is so keen that they rarely pass one. 
If the sitting bird can be caught or shot the 
opportunity is seldom neglected, for the half- 
starved Indian neither knows nor respects con- 
siderations of mercy, or, perhaps we should 
call it policy, — which restrain more enlight- 
ened sportsmen on such occasions. Proceeding 
thus two men in a canoe will frequently ran- 
303 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

sack twenty miles of coast-line in a single day 
and find, probably, nearly every eider nest. 
The result of this systematic persecution can- 
not be doubtful or long delayed." 

M. Abbott Frazar, who was in southern 
Labrador in 1884, said of this bird: "They 
are persecuted with relentless energy by both 
man and beast from the time they arrive up to 
the time they leave, and the countless hoards 
that once inhabited this coast are fast disap- 
pearing, and it will not be long before the 
Eider of Southern Labrador, like the Eider of 
Grand Manan will be but a memory of the 
past." 

It is natural that the fishermen and Indians 
should act thus, for eider eggs are delicious 
eating and the flesh of the birds, at least of 
the female and young, is equally palatable. 
Both are generous in the amount of nourish- 
ment furnished. But these people are killing 
the goose that lays the golden egg, and the 
time is not far distant, where such methods 
prevail, before the eider will be no more. 

There is no reason why the eider, which 
furnishes the valuable eider-down of com- 
merce, should not be made a source of consid- 
304 



CONSERVATION OF THE EIDER 

erable Income, without any reduction of its 
natural abundance. The principle of conser- 
vation can as well be applied to the eider as 
to a forest. The conservation of the common 
eider of Europ>e {Somateria mollissima), a spe- 
cies that differs but very slightly from the 
American bird, has been practiced for many 
years in Iceland and Norway. The birds are 
rigidly protected during the nesting-season 
and offered every encouragement. They are 
not allowed to be shot, and even the dis- 
charge of a gun in their vicinity is forbidden 
by law. Suitable nesting-sites are furnished 
close to the houses and the birds become semi- 
domesticated, losing all fear of man. The peo- 
ple are allowed to take the eggs and down 
during the first of the season, but the birds 
are permitted to hatch out and rear a few 
young in order to keep up the stock. The last 
down is taken after the birds have left. 

The following quotations from various au- 
thors show what can be done in the conser- 
vation of the eider and what a profitable and 
pleasant business it may be made: "A per- 
son," says Horrebow,^ "as I myself have wit- 

1 Quoted by Nuttall. 
305 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

nessed, may walk among these birds while they 
are sitting, and not scare them; he may even 
take the eggs and yet they will renew their 
laying as often as three times." ** According 
to the relation of Sir George Mackenzie,^ on 
the 8th of June at Vidoe, the Eider Ducks, 
at all other times of the year perfectly wild, 
had now assembled in great numbers to nestle. 
The boat, by which they approached the shore, 
passed through multitudes of these beautiful 
fowls, which scarcely gave themselves the 
trouble to go out of the way. Between the 
landing place and the Governor's house, the 
ground was strewn with them, and it required 
some caution to avoid treading on the nests. 
The Drakes were walking about uttering a 
sound very like the cooing of Doves, and were 
even more familiar than the common Domes- 
tic Ducks. All round the house, on the garden 
wall, on the roof, even in the inside of the house, 
and in the chapel, were numbers of Ducks sit- 
ting on their nests. Such as had not been long 
on the nest generally left it on being approached ; 
but those that had more than one or two eggs 
sat perfectly quiet, suffering us to touch them 

1 Travels in Iceland, p. 126. (Quoted by Nuttall.) 
306 



CONSERVATION OF THE EIDER 

and sometimes making a gentle use of their 
bills to remove our hands." 

Baird, Brewer, and Ridgway quote from 
C. W. Shepard, as follows: "The islands' of 
Vigr and Oldey are their headquarters in the 
northwest of Iceland. In these they live in 
undisturbed tranquillity. They have become 
almost domesticated, and are found in vast 
multitudes, as their young remain and breed 
in the place of their birth. As the island (Vigr) 
was approached, we could see flocks upon flocks 
of the sacred birds, and could hear them coo- 
ing at a great distance. We landed on a rocky, 
wave-worn shore. It was the most wonderful 
ornithological sight conceivable. The Ducks 
and their nests were everjrwhere. Great, brown 
Ducks sat upon their nests in masses, and at 
every step started from under our feet. It was 
with difficulty that we avoided treading on 
some of the nests. On the coast of the oppo- 
site shore was a wall built of large stones, just 
above the high-water level, about three feet 
in height, and of considerable thickness. At the 
bottom, on both sides of it, alternate stones 
had been left out, so as to form a series of 
square compartments for the Ducks to nest in. 
307 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

Almost every compartment was occupied, and 
as we walked along the shore, a long line of 
Ducks flew out, one after the other. The sur- 
face of the water also was perfectly white with 
Drakes, who welcomed their brown wives with 
loud and clamorous cooing. The house itself 
was a marvel. The earthen walls that sur- 
rounded it and the window embrasures were 
occupied by Ducks. On the ground the house 
was fringed with Ducks. On the turf slopes of 
its roof we could see Ducks, and a Duck sat 
on the door-scraper. The grassy banks had 
been cut into square patches, about eighteen 
inches having been removed, and each hollow 
had been filled with Ducks. A windmill was 
infested, and so were all the outhouses, mounds, 
rocks, and crevices. The Ducks were every- 
where. Many were so tame that we could 
stroke them on their nests, and the good lady 
told us that there was scarcely a Duck on the 
island that would not allow her to take its 
eggs without flight or fear. Our hostess told 
us that when she first became possessor of the 
island the produce of down from the Ducks 
was not more than fifteen pounds in a year, 
but that under her careful nurture of twenty 
308 



CONSERVATION OF THE EIDER 

years, it had risen to nearly a hundred pounds 
annuall}^ Most of the eggs were taken and 
pickled for winter consumption, one or two 
only being left in each nest to hatch." 

Burton, writing in 1875,^ says that not even 
a salute was permitted to be fired at Reykja- 
vik for fear of frightening the eider, which was 
there a "barn-door bird" and as "tame as 
horse-pond geese." He says "the turf is shaven 
and hollowed to make the nests — and the 
places are marked by pegs." 

Slater ^ says of the common eider that it is 
"resident in large numbers; especially abun- 
dant round the coast, strictly preserved by 
law, and in consequence very tame. In Aku- 
reyri, for instance, the old ducks with their 
ducklings feed along the edge of the fjord 
quite close to the houses and road, and take 
no more notice of the passers-by than domes- 
tic ducks would do — which is very pretty. 
In winter they pack in immense flocks. The 
eider-down is, of course, the property of the 
owner of the land, and every inducement and 
protection is given to the birds, as the down 

1 Ultima Thule, or A Summer in Iceland. 

2 Manual 0/ the Birds of Iceland. (1901.) 

309 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

is a valuable article of trade." Bernhard 
Hantzsch ^ says: "In consequence of the spe- 
cial protection which man everywhere exer- 
cises over them their numbers seem slowly to 
increase." 

Nelson Annandale ^ says: "The one offense 
against the Icelandic bird-laws which a native 
cannot commit with impunity is the slaughter 
of the eider-duck. . . . What! is more impor- 
tant than many laws, namely public opinion, 
protects the species, and there seems to be a 
sentimental interest in it. . . . Probably it is 
due to the great tameness of the bird, which 
appears actually to seek the vicinity of a hu- 
man dwelling for its nesting place and to fre- 
quent those parts of the coast which are more 
frequented by man. . . . The Icelandic eider- 
farms are frequently situated on little islands 
off the coast. Small circular or oblong erec- 
tions of rough stones are made among the hum- 
mocks, to protect the brooding ducks from 
wind and driving rain. . . . All the seafowl in 
these farms become exceedingly tame, as no 
gun is allowed to be fired and every thing lia- 

^ Beitrag zur Kenntniss der Vogelwelt Islands. (1905.) 
2 The Faroes and Iceland. (1906.) 

310 



CONSERVATION OF THE EIDER 

ble to disturb the ducks is carefully banished. 
Those who know how to handle them can even 
stroke the backs of the ducks as they sit on 
their eggs. . . . On such farms there is a sep- 
arate building or large room entirely devoted 
to cleaning the down. The apparatus consists 
of a series of oblong wooden frames, which 
may be either fixed in a horizontal position 
or held in the hand. Their number and size 
varies greatly, but in all cases the principle 
is the same, depending on the tenacity with 
which the down clings to anything on which 
it is thrown, partly because of its lightness 
and partly because of the structure of the indi- 
vidual feathers which compose it. Along the 
frames are stretched rather loosely, a number 
of strings which may be either of twine or of 
thongs of leather. The down is cast onto these 
near one end, and a spatula of wood or bone 
drawn briskly backwards and forwards over 
the other end. The down still clings to the 
strings, but all impurities, such as pieces of 
seaweed or grass, small stones, or coarse feath- 
ers, fall through to the ground." 

Newton^ says: "Generally the eggs and 

^ Dictionary of Birds. (1893-96.) 
311 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

down are taken at intervals of a few days by 
the owners of the 'Eider-fold,' and the birds 
are thus kept depositing both during the whole 
season; but some experience is needed to in- 
sure the greatest profit from each commodity. 
Every Duck is allowed to hatch an egg or two 
to keep up the stock, and the down of the last 
nest is gathered after the birds have left the 
spot. The story of the Drake's furnishing 
down, after the Duck's supply is exhausted, is 
a fiction. He never goes near the nest." An- 
nandale^ says: "It was formally the custom 
to take away all the down supplied by the fe- 
male ; but this practice was said to lead to great 
mortality among the ducks through exhaus- 
tion and nowadays each nest is generally rifled 
only once before the eggs are hatched, and then 
again after the young have left it." 

The same conservation of the eider exists 
in Norway. Stejneger ^ says: "All along the 
coast of Norway, where the bird is protected 
by law throughout the year, the common ei- 
der {Somateria molUssima), is now exceedingly 
common and very tame. The inhabitants take 

1 op. cit. 

2 Riverside Natural History. 

312 



CONSERVATION OF THE EmER 

great care of the breeding birds, which often 
enter their houses to find suitable nesting- 
places, and cases are authenticated in which 
the poor fisherman vacated his bed in order 
not to disturb the female eider, which had se- 
lected it as a quiet corner wherein to raise 
her young. In another place the cooking of a 
family had to be done in a temporary kitchen 
as a fanciful bird had taken up her abode on 
the fireplace." 

When St. Cuthbert, that holy man, went to 
live a lonely life on Fame Island, he tamed the 
eiders and they are called St. Cuthbert's ducks 
even to this day. 

Eider-down is not only extremely light and 
elastic, but is also one of the poorest conductors 
of heat. It is therefore an ideal substance for 
preserving warmth and is the best material for 
coverlets, puffs, cushions, etc. Its money-value 
is considerable and there is always a demand for 
it in the markets of the world. ^ The retail price 
in Boston at the present time ^ of well-cleaned 
Iceland or Norwegian eider-down is $14 a 
pound. It is probable that each nest fur- 

1 The down obtained from dead eiders, however, soon loses 
its elasticity and is of little value. 

2 1913. 

313 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

nishes ^ — as a very conservative estimate ■ — 
from an ounce to an ounce and a third of down, 
therefore twelve to sixteen nests or breeding 
females are needed for each pound. Burton 
states that the annual supply of down in Ice- 
land rose from two thousand pounds in 1806 to 
seven thousand pounds in 1870. One can easily 
understand the great value of this product even 
if the producer receives only one half of the 
retail price. He could count on at least fifty 
cents a season for each breeding female in his 
eider-fold. 

Imagine the pleasure as well as profit that 
could be obtained along the coast of Labra- 
dor, Newfoundland, Nova Scotia, and Maine if 
these birds were treated in the manner above 
described and flocked and nested about the 
habitations of man. Then, each dweller in suit- 
able localities by the sea could have his own 
flock of these beautiful birds — for the female 
is as beautiful in her modest dress of shaded 
and penciled brown as is the male in his strik- 
ing raiment of jet-black and cream- and snow- 
white, delicate sea-green and dark navy-blue. 
The cooing notes, so long few or absent in many 
places, would again resound over the waters, 
314 



CONSERVATION OF THE EIDER 

and, best of all, to the practical-minded, the 
birds would pay well for their protection by 
gifts of eggs and of valuable eider-down. 

How can the present senseless habit of de- 
struction be stopped and this desirable state of 
affairs brought about? As a preliminary step 
in Labrador and Newfoundland I would sug- 
gest that a few islands scattered along the coast 
should be made bird reservations, and care- 
fully guarded by one or two families who live on 
or near the islands. These people should be al- 
lowed to take the first set of eggs and down, as 
well as the down left behind after the duck has 
hatched out the second set and has left for the 
season, but should not be allowed the use of 
firearms, and their Eskimo dogs must be con- 
fined during the nesting-season. In other words, 
these people must not frighten the birds and 
must treat them kindly. The object of the ex- 
periment should be spread broadcast along the 
coast with the request for fair play, so as to 
restrain others from poaching and frightening 
the ducks on the reservation. 

The rapidity with which the birds will re- 
spond to this treatment and the intelligence 
they will display in the recognition of the safety 
315 



IN AUDUBON'S LABRADOR 

spots will surprise the people. This is the case 
wherever bird reservations are established. At 
Ipswich, Massachusetts, the shores of a small, 
protected pond are thronged with shore-birds 
of many species which display almost no fear 
of man, while on the neighboring beaches, where 
they are shot, they are very wary. In the city 
of Boston the Charles River Basin and Jamaica 
Pond are the resorts of numerous ducks that 
pay but little attention to the people, while in 
the sea and ponds near by, where shooting is 
allowed, the ducks show their usual wildness. 

It is useless to pass laws if they are not ob- 
served or if the sentiment of the community 
is against them. This reform, which will be of 
such great value to our northern seacoast, can 
only be accomplished by education, and these 
bird reservations with their eider-farms will be 
one of the best means to that end. 



THE END 



APPENDIX 



APPENDIX 

For the opportunity to publish the following letters 
from George C. Shattuck, Jr., from his father, 
George C. Shattuck, from B. Lincoln, and from 
Audubon himself, I am indebted to Dr. Frederick 
C. Shattuck, the son of George C. Shattuck, Jr., 
who accompanied Audubon on his Labrador trip. 

George C. Shattuck to George C. Shattuck, Jr., at 
Bowdoin College 
My Son, — 

Yours of the 21st inst. has just arrived. I am 
glad you have called on the Rev'd President and 
thank him for the courtesy he extended toward you. 
Tender him my respects when you may next see 
him. 

Since my last I have received the Birds of Amer- 
ica by J. J. Audubon (vol. ist) and a splendid work 
it is too. ^200 for the vol. & ^20 for half binding in 
Russia backs & corners. His Turkies, Eagles, Owls, 
Hawks etc. etc. are magnificent ! superb ! transcend- 
ent! 

M. Audubon has imparted to me an invitation 
for you to accompany him on the Labrador Coast 
the coming summer — of course I thanked him. 
He will be in Eastport the first of May. Your Lec- 
tures will not have been finished at that time. Dr. 
319 



APPENDIX 

Parkman ^ has recently obtained for him two new 
subscribers. . . . accept for your self the renewed 
expression of love from your 

Father, 

G. C. Shattuck. 
Boston, March 24, 1833. 

George C. Shattuck to George C. Shattuck, Jr., at 
Bowdoin College 
My Son, — 

Mr. Audubon called this evening and repeated 
the invitation for you to accompany him in his or- 
nithological excursion, to the Coast of Labrador. I 
told him I should submit it to your option, that if 
you had an ardent desire to go, I should not repress 
it, and if you had no special desire to go, I would not 
urge it. If you desire to accompany him, you may 
raise funds by drawing on me at sight and selling the 
bill. Mr. Audubon says that two hundred dollars 
and coarse clothes are the necessary outfit. If you 
conclude to go, settle up at Brunswick all your ac- 
counts and start for Eastport. Audubon sails this 
evening for Eastport & here he will remain about 
tenl days. You may take Bangor in your way. If 
you have no strong desire to go on this expedition, 
you will regulate your course in Maine before your 
return as you may desire. Write me your wish by 
next mail. 

Your father, 

Geo. C. Shattuck. 

Boston, May 4, 1833. 

^ Dr. George Parkman who was murdered by Dr. Webster 
in 1849. 



APPENDIX 

George C. Shattuck to George C. Shattuck, Jr., at 
Eastport, Maine 
My Son, — 

... I have also sent you letter paper said to be 
made of linen rags, both for your journal and for the 
letters you may have occasion to write. I beg you 
to make a daily record of what you may see, and to 
write to me as opportunity may offer. Let your 
journal be written in a legible hand writing. . . . 

Possibly you may visit Mr. Lincoln's family at 
Dennisville. . . . 

Boston, May 8, 1833. 

Extract from letter of George C. Shattuck, Jr., to 
his father 

Eastport, May 9, 1833. 

He [Mr. Audubon] insists much on a large jour- 
nal in which he will make me write every night an 
account of the day's work, and then read it to him. 
I shall have to work like a horse as he says. He 
is going to charter a vessel for himself, which is to 
move entirely as he directs. He has written to a 
friend in Philadelphia to come on and join us, and 
Tom Lincoln will probably go too. The advantages 
will be very great, and I can not be too grateful to 
you for the permission and means to go. We will 
probably sail in about a fortnight, and will be ab- 
sent two and a half or three months. In the mean 
time I shall be in training, under the direction of Mr. 
Chadbourne, and I am rejoiced I came on. I have 
seen young Audubon also, and everything looks 
favorable for a season of interest and instruction. 
331 



APPENBEX 

B. Lincoln to George C. Shattuck, Jr., at Eastport 
Burlington, Vt., 12th May, 1833. 

. . . By all means go to Dennisville if you can — 
perhaps my brother Tom may be invited to go too 
— he is an old crony of Mr. Audubon. Whether he 
could go or not I know not, but I should much like 
to have him go. — he would be a fine companion 
for you. . . . Would to God I could go with you. 
Will you not return by the way of Lake Champlain? 

I do not know how your vegetable eating will do 
in a country where men eat Fish — '^feathers and 
all." I think you will find your health improved by 
the cruise and you will to the day of your death 
rejoice that you went. . . . 



George C. Shattuck to George C. Shattuck, Jr., at 
Eastport 
My Son, — 

Yours of the 9th inst has been received. A double 
barrelled gun with percussion locks, custom work, 
and 10 lbs of powder and five thousand caps have 
been secured through the kindness of Mr. Hiram 
Smith and are forewarded by the Packet Boundary 
to Eastport. Mr. John Allen made the case for the 
gun, and insisted that you should have wads and 
ball and another pound of Mr. Ware's best powder, 
all of which you receive in the case with the gun. 
The ammunition otherwise is put in a candle box 
and directed to you, and with it the accompaniments 
of the gun. Enclosed is a letter from Baltimore via 
Brunswick. I have written to you twice at Eastport 



APPENDIX 

and sent you the books and some clothing by the 
packet which sailed last Saturday. ... To Mr. & 
Mrs. Chadburne tender my compliments and sin- 
cere thanks for their kindness to my son. 

To Mr. Audubon and to his son tender my best 
regards, and accept for yourself a father's blessing 
from 

Geo. C. Shattuck. 

Boston, May 17, 1833. 

George C. Shattuck, Jr., to his father 

Eastport, May 22, 1833. 

. . . This morning I have taken a long walk with 
Mr. Audubon, notwithstanding the rain. 

Mr. A. has made all arrangements for his vessel. 
She is a schooner measures one hundred and six 
tons, and is said to be a very fine sailor. He pays 
three hundred and fifty dollars a month for her and 
each of us is to pay three dollars a week for board. 
We are to be victualled for five months, and among 
the articles to be put on board are potatoes; rice; 
beans; beef; pork; butter; cheese. We shall live like 
princes. You can not expect us before the first of 
October. Mr. A. says I must return to Boston with 
him via Quebec. . . . 

George C. Shattuck, Jr., to his father 

Eastport, May 26, 1833. 

I must hasten to acknowledge the receipt of the 
two boxes which arrived here in the vessel on Thurs- 
day morning, but which on account of absence, I 
323 



APPENDIX 

did not receive till last evening. The gun is just the 
thing I wanted long and strong, the ammunition 
and accoutrements are all of the first quality, nor 
can I express too strongly my sense of obligation, 
at these renewed instances of your kindness and 
liberality. 

I returned last evening from an excursion in the 
revenue cutter Swiftsure to the island of Grand 
Manan. This island is distant some twenty miles 
from here, is ten miles long, three or four broad, and 
belongs to his British majesty. We went on board 
the vessel, Wednesday evening and the anchor was 
weighed about three the next morning. We passed 
along the western shore of the island, where we saw 
steep precipices, sixty, a hundred, or even two hun- 
dred feet high, offering a very rough reception to 
any vessel driven upon it by a storm. We passed 
round the northern extremity of the long island and 
stopped in a small harbor of an island, two miles 
east of Grand Manan. We went on shore, and 
called at the house of the only inhabitant Mr. 
Frankland, the governor of the island. We did not 
find this man at home but afterwards met him, 
when he expressed great pleasure at seeing us, and 
gave us permission to wander over his island, and 
to shoot as many birds, and take as many eggs, as 
we might wish and could find. Accordingly we pro- 
ceeded over the island. We soon saw gulls enough to 
convince us that there were an immense number on 
the island, and at the same time that they were very 
shy. They flew over our heads in large flocks, but it 
was very rarely that any one descended so low, as 
to be within eighty yards, quite a long distance of 
324 



APPENDIX 

us. The island contains about two hundred acres, is 
very well wooded, and yields a large quantity of 
hay, and little else besides, except a few potatoes. 
The road which we pursued was extremely wet and 
muddy, but my long fishermans boots, made me at 
home there. Our party consisting of eight, killed 
twelve gulls, but found only one or two eggs. We 
were too early for these birds generally had not 
commenced laying, and if we had waited three 
weeks or a month, we should have found eggs in 
abundance, and the birds much less shy. We ram- 
bled about six hours or more, and then returning to 
the vessel, we enjoyed very much the food set be- 
fore us. After dinner John and myself went to work 
to skin the birds and this task having been per- 
formed, principally however by John, for as yet I 
am not very expert at the business, we went on 
shore, it being eight o'clock, to enjoy the fresh air, 
and to meet Mr. A. who with the Captain of the 
cutter, went on shore after dinner, to ramble round, 
and to pay their respects to the governor. To the 
governor's .house, accordingly, we proceeded, and 
there we found our party, having taken tea, and 
passed the evening there. Mr. Frankland is an old 
man, a native of Yorkshire in England, whence he 
came to this island some fourty odd years ago. He 
retains the Yorkshire dialect, so that you would 
know whence he came talking with him five minutes. 
He is an intelligent, kind hearted old farmer, and I 
was desirous to see more of him than I had oppor- 
tunity. He was very hospitable to us, and his two 
sons accompanied us on board our vessel, to serve 
as guides to two collections of islands, called the 
325 



APPENDIX 

two islands and the three islands which we were to 
visit the next day. Having written my journal I 
went to bed about half past ten, and so sound was 
my sleep, that I did not hear the grating of the chain 
when they weighed anchor, between eleven and 
twelve that night, and I was much surprised to 
learn the next morning, that we were lying in a dif- 
ferent harbor. Having eaten an early breakfast, we 
pushed ashore in two parties, one to each group of 
islands. I accompanied Mr. Audubon to the three 
islands, which we explored very thoroughly, finding 
however scarcely any birds. Two of a species of 
ducks called lords and ladies were killed by one of 
our party, also a bird called a turnstone, and we saw 
one bird very rare, called about here the sea goose, 
which Mr. A. was very desirous to examine, but we 
did not succeed in killing him. Returning on board, 
we found that the other party had killed some eider 
ducks, and a few sea pigeons, but it was evident 
that the ducks mostly had gone north, to their 
breeding places. The same afternoon we returned 
back to our former station, returned to the governor 
his two sons, paid our parting respects, and contin- 
uing on from six to ten miles further, stopped for the 
night at long island harbor. We saw two or three 
houses along the shore, and a couple of fishing ves- 
sels. The next morning having taken an early 
breakfast we were rowed ashore, and John and my- 
self, spent three or four hours rambling through the 
woods. We found some acres of cleared land around 
the houses, hills quite high, and some most delight- 
ful views. We could see from a cleared spot of land, 
gently rising from the sea shore, the houses below, 
S26 



APPENDIX 

and the seashore, and then the bay coming in, and 
surrounded on three sides by the land. Another 
party took a boat and coasted along the rocks. 
They shot several sea pigeons, a most beautiful 
bird, a white spot on their wings, the rest of their 
plumage being black, or dark green changeable, and 
varying as seen in different lights. As we had a very 
fair breeze we accomplished our return very speed- 
ily, stopping to get some young ravens. The nest in 
which they were found was in the clefts of a very 
steep rock, and one of the sailors descended to it, by 
attaching a rope to a tree above and climbing down, 
being obliged to shoot in afterwards, as the rock 
over jutted considerably. The ravens were about 
three weeks old, and the ugliest birds without ex- 
ception that I ever saw. Mr. A. thinks of taking one 
to Labrador, making a pet of it, and teaching it to 
talk. It was five o'clock when we landed at East- 
port, having had a very pleasant time. The weather 
was as fine as we could have desired, and our ac- 
commodations on board the cutter were very good. 
The second lieutenant had been a warrant officer 
on board the Hamilton with Captain Derby. Mr. 
A. wished he had applied at Washington for this 
vessel, to go to Labrador, and the officers told us, 
they would have liked nothing better than such an 
excursion. 

Our vessel has not arrived from Baltimore, but is 
expected every hour. She probably will come to day 
or to morrow, and we shall sail on Thursday, or 
Friday. Mr. A. is anxious to get off as soon as 
possible. I am ready, with the exception of a few 
articles, which I shall procure to morrow. I ex- 



APPENDIX 

pect to walk to Dennysville to day, and to return 
to morrow. 

If possible I shall send you a few lines just before 
I sail. Any letters that come had better be retained 
at home, for there can be no certainty that any 
communication would reach me. I received your 
last inclosing one from Brune on Wednesday. B. 
tells me his brother has gone to the western coast of 
South America, as supercargo to a vessel, where the 
cargo is worth seventy thousand dollars. What an 
undertaking for a young man only eighteen years of 
age. The vessel belongs to a merchant in Balti- 
more a friend of his fathers. 

Do let me find a letter at Eastport on my return, 
giving an account of whatever has happened during 
my absence. It is not with indifference, I assure you 
that I contemplate, an absence of three months in 
which I probably shall not hear a word from home. 
But there is a God who orders all things for the 
best, and in whose hands we all are. Let me then 
again subscribe myself, 

Your's dutifully and affectionately 

G. C. S., Jr. 

George C. Shattuck, Jr., to his father 

American Harbor, Labrador, June 22, 1833. 
As a vessel has just come into the harbor I will 
prepare a letter giving some account of myself since 
my last dates. Thursday June 6. at twelve oclock 
our vessel was announced as ready, and our friends 
who had come on board to bid us farewell, and 
to look at our accommodations, informed that they 
328 



APPENDIX 

must step ashore. We cast loose and as we pushed 
off were saluted with four guns from the fort, and 
four from the revenue cutter. The wind was dead 
ahead but we beat down with the tide, and the 
Captain of the cutter accompanied us till we were 
steered clear of all difficulties, and were launched 
out into the bay of Fundy. We kept on and by 
night had beat down to Little river; a distance of 
twenty or thirty miles, but the wind dying away, 
we did not succeed in getting into the harbor. A 
breeze sprung up about noon the next day, which 
increased the next night, and Saturday afternoon 
we steered round Cape Sable between the mud and 
seal islands, rejoicing that we were clear of the bay 
of Fundy with its confounded tides. We passed by 
Halifax at a distance of thirty miles, and at night 
spoke the schooner Caledonia from Boston bound 
to the Labrador. Monday afternoon we made Can- 
seau and as the wind was ahead for going through 
the gut, we run into the harbor, where we found 
several other vessels waiting contentedly for a fair 
wind. There are a few inhabitants at this place, 
who derive their support from the fishery, but the 
land is poor and yields only a few potatoes. We 
obtained however some milk and eggs, which sa- 
vored very well, especially as we bad adieu to the lat- 
ter when we pushed off from Eastport. The next 
morning at four oclock we set sail again with a fair 
wind, and crossing the bay were soon in the gut 
of Canseau through which we had a most delight- 
ful sail. This name is given to the passage between 
Cape Breton island and Nova Scotia, a narrow 
strait where you see distinctly both shores. The 
329 



APPENDIX 

N. Scotia shore is the highest but the Cape Breton 
shore appeared the greenest. Houses were scat- 
tered along the banks, and we saw something like a 
village at Ship harbor on the Cape Breton side. We 
stopped at Jestico island just as we were getting 
into the Gulf of St. Lawrence. We stopped also at 
the Magdalen islands, and spent a day rambling 
round. We stopped at Amherst island and found 
a hundred and fifty families there with a Catholic 
priest a Mounsieur Brulette from Quebec. These 
men support themselves by fishing and the soil yields 
a few potatoes. They are Canadian French, but the 
merchant who resides there, sells them their goods 
and buys their fish, is a native of Halifax, a shrewd 
fellow, who has made his fortune. A few wild geese 
breed in ponds but not on the part of the island 
where we were. They have foxes, hares, rats, no 
other wild animals. The next day we had a fair 
wind, passed the bird rocks, where we saw Gannets 
by thousands so thick, that the top of the rock 
looked as if covered with snow, but were unable to 
land on account of the surf. We passed Anticosti 
and arrived at this place last Monday, having had 
a very comfortable passage. We have been shooting 
away here but have not come to the parts where 
birds are most abundant. There are five vessels in 
the harbor from Eastport, fishing for cod, and they 
average about a thousand a man. Most American 
vessels go farther north, but we have one here from 
Newburyport, and one from Halifax Nova Scotia. 
The fishermen are up every morning at half past 
two work eighteen hours in the day, and sleep four. 
The fishing is done in boats off from the shore, 
830 



APPENDIX 

the fish are brought to the vessels, where they are 
opened by one man, their heads cut off and guts 
removed by another, whilst a third cuts out the 
back bones, and throws them into the hold, where 
two men are employed salting and packing them 
away. Afterwards they take the fish out and dry 
them. A Captain Billings from Eastport owns these 
five vessels and is here with them. He is going 
north, and expects in August to keep two vessels 
for the mackerel fishery. They throw out pieces of 
mackerel to toll the fish, put on bait to their hook 
which lasts all day, and throw the fish on the deck 
without touching hands to them. One man can 
catch fourty in a minute. The fishing on this coast 
is said to be better than off Newfoundland. The 
country is very rough sterile covered with moss 
and a few scraggy fir trees for forrests. You can not 
conceive more fatiguing walking than over this 
moss, and can be compared to wading through 
snowdrifts. Our excursions will be made mostly in 
boats. We start hence with the fair wind which 
first blows. 

Our party are all in excellent health and spirits. I 
never enjoyed better health. We were sea sick some 
days, and wished ourselves any wheres, but we re- 
covered and our appetite returned most wonder- 
fully sharpened. I have been obliged to give up my 
experiment of a vegetable diet for the pilot bread 
when eaten exclusively makes me very costive, and 
whilst I was sea sick I lost my relish for potatoes. 
Since we have been in this harbor we have lived on 
codfish which are very nice and of which we all are 
very fond. 

331 



APPENDIX 

June 26. 
The vessel by which I expected to have sent this 
letter proved to be his majesty's surveying schooner 
Gulnare, commanded by Captain Bayfield of the 
royal navy. They are taking a survey of this coast, 
and making charts, which when completed will be 
very thorough and accurate. They have already 
passed one summer in this employment, and expect 
to spend three or four more. A physician is on 
board who is a good deal of a botanist; conchologist ; 
something of an ornithologist. Thus this coast has 
been much more explored than we thought for, and 
the field we expected to find unexplored has been 
pretty well beaten, Mr. A. has been invited to dine 
with Captain Bayfield, and actually ate roast mut- 
ton on the coast of Labrador. He ascertained from 
them that we are in Little Natashquam harbor. 
Latitude 50° 12', longitude 9° 23 east of Quebec; 
61° 53' east ^ of Greenwich. We are doing nothing 
waiting for a west wind these last five days, for we 
have explored the country very thoroughly, and 
find almost nothing of interest. Snow and ice are 
met with in sheltered spots every few steps, and as 
"we run down the coast we saw a good deal. 

July 23. 

I resume my pen, to inform you of my continued 

health and happiness up to this date. We are now at 

the great Mecatina, whence we sail for Bon esper- 

ance by the first fair wind. We expect to find there 

several vessels from Boston, and in some of them 

^ Error for west. 

332 



APPENDIX 

letters. We visited a port this morning where we 
found a vessel loading for Quebec, and where we 
were very glad to see Quebec papers, in which were 
Boston dates to the twenty fifth of June. 

Remember me to my friends, and be assured that, 
my absence from home has not diminished my at- 
tachment to it. My story I must tell when I get 
there, and it now is impossible to tell when we shall 
leave this coast. 

Your's most truly and affectionately 

G. C. S., Jr. 

We are in latitude 50° 43': in longitude 59° 15, 
and the mosquitoes so troublesome that I can 
scarcely write. 

Rec'd Montreal 25 Aug't 1833 and forwarded by 
your obdt. serv't 

H. Gates. 



George C. Shattuck, Jr., to his father 

Bradore, Latitude 51, Monday, August 5, 1833. 

I send you a few lines by a vessel which sails to- 
morrow for Mount dessert, and would thus assure 
you that I am well, and in good condition. We ar- 
rived in this port Friday July 24, having been out 
one day and night from the port at which I ad- 
dressed you a letter, which you probably have re- 
ceived. Our cruise is nearly terminated for with the 
first fair wind which may blow next week, we move 
homewards. On our way we stop at Newfoundland, 
333 



APPENDIX 

and at Pictou on Prince Edward's island,* so that we 
shall reach Eastport sometime in the first week of 
September. How much I have improved by my op- 
portunities, must be left to your judgement, when 
we meet, as I hope we shall, some six weeks hence. 
We have not found Labrador, the country that the 
fishermen would have us believe. I expected to have 
obtained many curious specimens in comparative 
anatomy, but we have seen no quadruped larger 
than a rat. We have found no new plants, though 
we have looked closely over all the ground. Birds 
are much less plenty than we had been taught to 
expect them. Mr. Audubon has obtained much 
valuable information, and we all are glad that we 
have seen this country, for no description can con- 
vey a just idea of it. Labrador was not made for 
white men, and it is to be wished that it had been 
left in the possession of those whom God placed 
there. We have travelled over the country very 
thoroughly, and can bid adieu to Labrador without 
regret. If I was to come here again, I should wish to 
spend here the winter and the spring, as the quad- 
rupeds of the country, such as reindeer, bears, foxes, 
hares, are to be seen only in this season. In the 
summer they retire into the interior, no one knows 
where. We have heard one bear, but could not ob- 
tain a sight of him, though we sought his acquaint- 
ance eagerly. Mosquitoes, and gnats are in greater 
abundance than any thing else. 

I have written to Dr. Mussey ^ an account of what 
I have seen, but have not descended to particulars 

^ Pictou is in Nova Scotia. 
* Dr. Reuben Dimond Mussey. 

334 



< 



> 

\ 




M 




ii^xkH 




^ 



.■X 



^ X 




^ ^ 



> ^ ^ 



APPENDIX 

here, as I expect to read you my journal ^ when I 
return. 

Remember me affectionately to all friends, and 
accept for yourself assurances of gratitude and 
affection from 

Your Son, 

G. C. S. Jr. 

John J. Audubon to George C. Shattuck 

New York, Sep^ 9'", 1836. 

My Dear Doctor Shattuck, — 

I have great pleasure whilst I am informing you 
of my safe return to America, accompanied by my 
son John; and also in appraising you that I have 
brought over for you, a Ladies Watch handed to 
me at London by the Order of my Young Friend 
Your Son George. — Shall I keep this watch until 
I go to Boston in a few weeks, or shall I forward it 
to you by some one, willing as I am to deliver the 
same safely into your hands? 

George was with us at London but a few days, he 
was quite well, and well doing at Paris, when I left 
England. Our Worthy Friend Doc'^ Parkman had 
safely reached Havre, and I left my Wife and Victor 
quite well. — please to let me hear from you very 
soon, and believe me ever with the highest senti- 
ments of respects & esteem 

Your Friend & Servant 

John J. Audubon. 

* Dr. F. C. Shattuck has no knowledge of this journal. 
335 



APPENDIX 

John J. Audubon to George C. Shattuck 

New York, July 5, 1837. 
My Dear Friend, — 

I write to you to inform you of my return here, 
and also to inform you that I will leave for Liverpool 
on the 1 6th Instant, accompanied by my Son John 
and his Wife, late Miss Bachman of Charleston. — 

I have this day drawn a check on the Atlas Bank 
of Boston for the amount you deposited in that in- 
stitution on my account in Jan. 7 last Favour of 
Nicholas Berthond Esq. or order. Say Six hundred 
and Fifty nine Dollars. 

Now my Dear Friend will you have the goodness 
to write to me, and to inform me from whence the 
above amount was collected by you; so as to enable 
me to Balance, or at least to credit the proper par- 
ties in my books? — 

My late Journey & Voyage westward has prouved 
a very trying one to my body & nerves — I have 
lost 15 pounds weight, and have not been as well as 
if under your care and roof — I however think that 
I am recruiting apace, and most sincerely Hope 
that I will see you and your Dear Family in about 
18 months; when I now calculate that my Work will 
have been finished, delivered and settled for in 
England. — Where is George and how is he? Where 
is our worthy friend Doc^ Parkman and family? I 
am quite in the Dark as regards the answers which 
I trust you will give me to these querries, and beg 
of you to transmit them, with an account of your 
Health &c at your earliest Convenience. 

My last dates from London are to the 20 of May, 
336 



APPENDIX 

when my beloved Wife and Son Victor were quite 
well. — My Publication was also going on quite 
well ; but alas ! The present commercial and mone- 
tary revolution has caused me to lose a good number 
of the Subscribers through whose Support, I did 
hope to realize a few Thousand Dollars to comfort 
and supply with the wants of our later days my 
Beloved Wife and my poor Self. Trusting however 
and for ever in that Providence, and in the care of 
Jiim who supports us all, until called to his Bosom, 
I hope to see yet a less clouded Sky than the one 
hovering over our beloved Country at present, and 
be permitted to end our lives in peaceful enjoyment 
of health, and security of mind. 

Oflfer my kindest, and most fervent wishes to your 

Dear Family towards their health and Happiness, 

Miss Lucy Included and believe me to be truly and 

for life your most truly thankful, grateful and sincere 

Friend and Servant 

John J. Audubon. 
To George C. Shattuck, Esq., M.D. 
Boston. 

Please to send word to my young friend Thomas 
M. Brewer M.D.? ^ Winter Street, that I have writ- 
ten to him this day. Have you received one hundred 
Dollars from our Friend I. P. Davis ^ on account of 
Daniel Webster? He was to pay that same on Jan, 
7 last, on account of the latter's subscription to the 
Birds of America. 

^ The ornithologist. He did not receive the degree of M.D. 
until 1838. 

2 The historian and a friend of Daniel Webster to whom 
Webster dedicated the second volume of his works. 




a/fwfoumdland 



sake of clearness 




NFWFOUUDLANO 



The broken line shows Audubon 



AUDUBON S LABRADOR 
; the solid line that of the author. Many of the islands along the c 



itted for the sake of clearness 



INDEX 



INDEX 



Acadians, 12, 53, 81, 85, 139. 

Acunishuan, 55. 

Agriculture in Labrador, 279- 

83. 

Alder, Alnus incana, var. 
glauca and A . viridis var. 
mollis, 124, 151, 159, 

Alexander. See Scotch lovage. 

Allen, Dr. Glover M., 40, 204, 
302. 

American Harbor, 8, 45, 72, 
328. 

Anse k Malouin, 210. 

Anseau Clair. 5eeAnseficlair. 

Anse des Dunes, 240, 262, 263. 

Anse ficlair, 256, 260. 

Anticosti Island, 34, 190, 330. 

Audubon Island, no. 

Audubon, John James, i, 7, 9, 
10, 13, 22, 26, 47, 49, 68, 
77, 89, 93, 97, 108, 120, 
122, 130, 136, 153, 154, 
157, 163, 166, 169, 174, 
226, 234, 236, 237, 239, 
270, 284, 293. 
age, 15 



birth, 16. 
character, 3. 
fatigue, 15. 
handicapped 



by ignorant 



pilot, 13, 17, 22, 77, 174. 
homesickness, 17. 
hours of labor, 9, 14, 15. 
interest in natural history, 

18, 19. 



journal, 79, 80. 
letters from, 335-37. 
seasickness, 16, 153. 
Audubon, John Woodhouse, 

2, 4, 25. 
Audubon, Maria R., 3, 
Audubon, Victor, 4, 335, 337, 
Auk, Great, Plautus impenms, 
190. 
Razor-billed, Alca tarda, 9, 
13, 82, 89, 90, 116, 117, 
125, 129, 138, 139, 140, 
172, 223, 240, 243, 290, 
294. 



Baffin Land, 213. 

Bate de Portage. See Mutton 

Bay. 
Baie du Lac Sale, 172. 
Bake-Apple. See Cloudberry. 
Balsam fir, Abies balsamea, 65, 

69, 90, 150, 171, 175, 256, 

257, 263. 
Banding of birds, 98, 100. 
Baneberry, red, Actcea rubra, 

252. 
Bathing, sea, 76, loi, 160, 196. 
Battle Harbor, 130. 

origin of name of, 231, 232. 
Bay of Chaleurs, 4, 190. 
Bay of Fundy, 5, 25. 
Bay of Seven Islands, 30, 31, 

32. 
Bay Johan Beetz. See Piashte 

Bay. ^ 

341 



INDEX 



Bayfield, Capt., ii, 20, 78, 

332. 
Beach pea, Lathyrus marit- 

imus, 60, 184. 
Beaches, raised, 18, 63, 154- 
56, 200, 211, 223, 250, 
260. 
Beachgrass, Ammophila arenO' 

ria, 81. 
Bear, polar, Thalarcios marit- 

imus, 168. 
Bearberry, Arciostaphylos al- 

pina, 262. 
Beaver, Castor canadensis, 67. 
Bec-scie. See Merganser, red- 
breasted. 
Bedstraw, sweet-scented, Ga- 
lium triflorum, 252. 
Beetz, Johan, 36, 64, 97. 
black fox industry of, 36, 72. 
character, 37. 
collection of birds, 41. 
family, 37. 
garden, 39. 

practical jokes, 58, 59. 
table, 38, 39. 
Bent, A. C, 36, 92, 108, 293, 

303- 
Beri-beri, 134, 277, 282. 
Berthond, Nicholas, 336. 
Big Coxipi River, 197. 
Birch, alpine, Betula glandu- 

losa and var. rotundifolia, 

65, 123, 262. 
white, Betula alba, 65, 142, 

175, 211, 214. 
Bird conservation, 283-316. 
Bird destruction, 175, 182, 

283-94. 
Bird reservations, 172, 296- 

300, 315. 316. 



Bird Rocks, 6, 7, 330. 
Bird skins, 75, 128. 
Birds, migrations, 30, 107; aes- 
thetic value of, 105, 106; 

dark plumage of Labra- 
dor, 202. 
Bjarne, Herjulfsson, 212. 
Blackbird, Red-winged, Age- 

latus phoeniceus, 41. 
Black grass,* 61. 
Blais, Capt., 264, 265. 
Blanche, Monseigneur Gus- 

tave, 73. 
Blanc Sablon, 24, 109, 190, 

244-71. 
forest trees of, 252-59. 
geology of, 248-50. 
origin of name, 249. 
Blanc Sablon River, 249. 
Blueberry, oval-leaved, Vac- 

cinium ovalifolium, 226, 

262. 
Blue lumpfish, Cyclopterus 

lumpus, 267. 
Bog, 8, 65, 68, 69, 87, 90, 123, 

124, 184, 225, 280. 
Bonne Esperance, 21, 226, 

232. 
Bosse, Monseigneur, 167. 
Botanical specimens, 75, 93, 

129. 
Boucher, Capt., 66, 67. 
Boulders, poised, 121, 122, 

158, 159. 195, 200. 
Bowl, the, 154, 157. 
Bradore, 22, 24, 174, 234-38, 

264. 
* The black grass of the New Eng- 
land coast, Juncus Gerardi, has no 
representative in Labrador, although 
a number of plants there resemble 
it superficially. 



342 



INDEX 



Bradore Bay, 234-38. 
Brant, Branta bernicla glau- 

cogastra, 30. 
Bras d'Or. See Bradore. 
Brest, Port of, 190, 223, 224. 
Brewer, Thomas M., 337. 
Brewster, William, 185, 303. 
Bryant, Henry G., 180, 181. 
Burroughs, John, 205. 

Cabot, W. B., 204, 228. 
Cambrian rocks, 36, 130, 248. 
Campbell, Jere, 266. 
Canadian Geological Survey, 

27. 
Canned rabbit, 39, 270. 
Cape Cod, possible site of Vin- 

land, 214, 216, 221. 
Cape Mecattina, 162, 163. 
Cape Thiennot, 190. 
Cape Whittle, 118, 121, 136, 

291. 
Capelin, Mallotus villosus, 39, 

183, 270, 273, 274. 
Caribou, Cabot's barren 

ground, Rangifer articus 

caboti, 204. 
woodland, Rangifer caribou, 

150, 204. 
Cart-tracks, 263, 264. 
Cartier, Jacques, 47, 189-92, 

232, 242, 253. 
Cartwright, Capt. George, 

134, 140, 235, 245, 279, 

280, 281. 
Cascapedia, S.S., 27. 
Cat-in-the- Wheel Inn, I2I. 
Charts, 11, 78, 79, 143. 
Chateau Bay, 38, 107, 248. 
Chevalier de St. Paul, 227. 
Chevalier, Louis David, 227. 



Chevalier, Louis Owen, 227, 

228. 
Chevalier's Settlement, 226, 

227, 228. 
Chickadee, Labrador, Penthes- 

tes hudsonicus nigricans, 

202. 
Chicoutai. See Cloudberry. 
Chimney-Head Passage, 210. 
Citronella ointment, 177. 
Clark City, 30. 
Clintonia, Clintonia borealis, 

252. 
Cloudberry, Rubus Chamce- 

morus, 12, 69, 183. 
Coacoacho Bay, iii. 
Cod, Gadus callarias, 84, 132, 

265-68. 
Cod-fishing, 84, 131, 132, 133, 

168, 265-68. 
Cod -liver oil, manufacture of, 

246, 247, 272, 273. 
Cods' tongues, 272. 
Cod-traps, 131, 132, 208, 265, 

266. 
Comeau, Napoleon A., 28, 63. 
Compass, variation of, 159. 
Conservation in Labrador, 

134, 274-316. 
Cook-room, 245. 
Coolidge, Joseph A., 2, 3, 

4,7- _ 
Cooperative stores, 146. 
Cormorant, Common, Phala- 
crocorax carbo, 119. 
Double-crested, Phalacro- 
corax aurttus, 13, ioi-c6, 
111-14, 119-21. 
Cormorants, as food, 102. 
destruction of, 103. 
food of, 103, 104. 



343 



INDEX 



Cornel, dwarf, Cornus cana- 
densis, 252. 

Cornel, Northern dwarf, Cor- 
nus suecica, 12. 

Corner, Dr. George W., 209. 

Corte Real, 232. 

C6te Nord, 35. 

Cotton-gra.s5,Eriophoruin Cha- 
missonis, E. callitris, E. 
angustifolium, and others, 
65, 69. 

Courtemarche, Legardeur de, 
224. 

Courtship of Black Guillemot, 
140, 141. 

Cow-parsnip, Heracleum lana- 
tum, 246. 

Cranberry, mountain, Vac- 
cinium Vitis-IdcBa var. 
minus, 53, 54, 65, 183, 
184, 211, 217-21,262. 

Creighton, J. G. Alwyn, 179. 

Crepes, 77. 

Cross Harbor, 154. 

Cross, the, on Matchiatik 
Island, 127, 128. 

Crowberry. See Curlew-berry. 

Cumberland Harbor, 188, 189. 

Curlew, Eskimo, Numenius 
borealis, 23, 107. 
Hudsonian, Numenius hud- 
sonicus, 107. 

Curlew-berry, Empetrum ni- 
grum, 23, 65, 155, 211, 
218, 231, 262, 270. 

Currant, Ribes triste and R. 
prostratum, 279. 

Daly, Prof. Reginald, 159, 185, 

204. 
Darby River, 138. 



Davis, I. P., 337. 

Dawson, Dr. Samuel E., 

224. 
Deane, Ruthven, 3, 4, 18. 
Dikes, 205, 206. 
Dog-fish, Squalus acanthias, 

267, 274. 
Dog-food, 103, 222. 
Dog-sledging, 78, 133, 174. 
Dogs, Eskimo, 54, 133, 147- 
50, 152, 168, 169, 222. 
chorus, 152. 
nature, 147-49. 
objections to, 149, 150. 
origin, 54. 
value, 133, 149. 
Duck, Black, Anas rubripes 
tristis, 43, 44, 184, 185. 
Eider. See Eider. 
Golden-eye, Clangula clan- 
gula americana, 88, 177, 
178. 
Harlequin, Histrionicus his- 

trionicus, 326. 
Labrador, Camptorhynchus 

labradorius, 22. 
Lesser Scaup, Marila affinis, 

41. 
Lords and ladies. See Duck, 

Harlequin. 
Pied. See Duck, Labrador. 
Duke's Island, 188. 

Eastport, i, 5, 25. 

Eel-grass, Zostera marina, 30. 

Eggers, 10, loi, 182, 283-93. 

Eggs, destruction of incu- 
bated, 285, 290. 

Eider, Somateria dresseri, 9, 
44, 45, 60, 89, 96, 97, 139, 
175, 182, 289, 301-16. 



344 



INDEX 



conservation of, 301-16. 
destruction of, 289, 290, 

302-04. 
down of, 44, 305-15- 
local names of, 301. 
European, 5. mollissima, 

305. 
Northern, S. mollissima bo- 
realis, 302. 
Elder, Capt. Sam, 266. 
Elevation of coast, 61-64, 
88, 121, 154, 183, 249, 
250. 
Ellis Bay, 34. 
Emerton, J. H., 69, 183. 
Emery, Capt., I, 4. 
English Point, 80. 
Ernest, cook, yj, 135, 183. 
Eskimos, 215. 
former distribution of, 231, 

232. 
numbers of, 33. 
Esquimaux Island, 230, 231. 
Point, 35, 36, 231. 
River, 227-29. 
Eudist Brotherhood, 73, 261. 
Eye of the buck, 181. 

Ferland, Abbe, 169. 
Fernald, Prof. M. L., 211,213, 

217, 251-55, 257. 
Fiards, 205. 
Fiords, 204, 205. 
Fir, Balsam, See Balsam Fir. 
Fish, business, 244-47, 330) 
331. 

fertilizer, 274, 275, 276, 281. 

licenses, 295. 
Fishing-room, 245. 
Fishing season, 132. 
Flatey Book, 212. 



Flies, 16, 20, 47, 70, 86, 177, 

195, 269. 
Flounder, 274. 
Flour, white, 281, 282. 
Fly, black, Simulium, 47, 269. 
Flycatcher, Yellow-bellied, 

Empidonax flaviventris, 

42, 50, 51, 158. 
Olive-sided, Nuttallornis bo- 

realis, 42. 
Fog, 238, 239, 260, 270. 
Forest trees at Blanc Sablon, 

252-59. 
dimensions of, 252, 257, 258. 
Forest vegetation, 252, 254, 

255, 256. 
Forbes, J. D., 204. 
Forman, Jim, 81. 
Fort Pontchartrain, 224. 
Forteau, 24, 245. 
Fox, black, Vulpes fulvus, 36, 

133, 208, 277. 
red, Vulpes fulvus, 277. 
Fox Island, 144. 
Frankland, Mr., 324, 325. 
Frazar, M. Abbott, 108, 136, 

286, 304. 
Fur-bearing animals raised in 

captivity, 36, 277-79. 
Furs, 21, 57, 102, 166, 179, 197. 

Gagnon, Abbe, 161. 
Galibois Islands, 131. 
Galibois, Jean-Baptiste, 127. 
Galibois, Joe, 131, 138. 
Galllchon brothers, 172. 
Gallix, Pere, 70. 
Game-wardens, 294. 
Gannet, Sula bassana, 6, 234, 

330. 
Ganong, Prof. W. F., 189. 



345 



INDEX 



Garden of M. Beetz, 39. 

of Capt. Cartwright, 280, 

281. 
of Mr. Morrell, 247. 
of Natashquan priests, 71. 
of Donald Alexander Smith, 
282. 

Garnier, Pere, 70. 

Gasoline engine. See Motor- 
boats. 

Gilbert, Sir Humphrey, 238. 

Gill-netting, 266, 267. 

Glacial boulders, 121, 122, 158, 
159, 195, 200. 
cirque, 172. 

lunoid furrows, 185, 186, 
scratches, 159. 

Godbout, 28, 32. 

Godde. 5ee Auk, Razor-billed. 

Godefroy, Jean, 227. 

Godefroy de St. Paul, Jean 
Amador, 227. 

Godwin, Pilot, 6, 7. 

Goose, Canada, Branta cana- 
densis, 30, 330. 

Gosling, W. C., 231, 232. 

Grain rouge. See Mountain 
Cranberry. 

Grand Bay, 45. 

Grand Manan, 324. 

Grand Romaine River, 83. 

Granitic rocks, 99, 1 10, 130, 
185, 230, 248, 249. 

Grant, Edwin G., 244. 

Grape, Northern fox, Vitis 
labrusca, 214-22. 

Grape-vines, 216, 219. 

Grassy Island, 211. 

Great Island, 176. 

Great Mecattina Island, 167, 
172. 



Greenland, 212, 216. 
Greenly Island, 245, 265. 
Gregory, G. W., 205. 
Grenfell, Dr. W. T., 144-47, 

210, 226. 
cooperative stores, 146. 
hospitals, 143, 144, 146. 
industrial stations, 145. 
mission, 145, 146. 
mission fleet, 146, 147. 
work of, 147. 

Grenfell Shoals, 188. 

Grouse, Ruffed, Bonasa umhel- 
lus togata, 190. 
Spruce, Canachites cana- 
densis, 19, 225, 226. 

Guano, iii, 282, 283. 

Guillaume, mate, 76, 77, 135. 

Guillemot, Foolish. See Murre. 

Guillemot, Black, Cepphus 
grylle, 125, 129, 139, 140, 
141, 172, 182, 188, 211, 
294. 

Gulf of St. Lawrence, 17, 31, 

153- 
Gull, European mew, Larus 
canus, 136. 
Great black-backed, Larus 
marinus, 44, 65, 82, 93, 
94,96-100, III, 172, 175, 

211, 291. 

Herring, Larus argentatus, 

44, 82, 211. 
Kumlien's, Larus Kumlieni, 

41. 
Ring-billed, Larus dela- 
warensis, 135-37, 289. 
Gull Cliff Island, 144. 
Gull Island, 119, 136. 
Gulls, destruction of, 290, 291. 
Gulnare, schooner, 11, 20, 332. 



346 



INDEX 



Gyrfalcon, Black or Labrador, 
Falco ruslicolus obsoletus, 
24. 

Ha Ha Bay, 172. 
Halifax eggers, 10, 286. 
Hamilton Inlet, 197. 

River, 180, 181. 
Harbor of Canso, 5. 
Hare, Dr. H. Mather, 29, 143. 
Hare Harbor, 18, 154. 
Harrington, 143, 144. 

hospital, 143, 144. 
Hawk, Pigeon, Falco colum- 

barius, 88, 89. 
Head of the Whale Islands, 

160, 161, 162. 
Hearn, Capt. J., 27, 28, 29. 
Helluland, 213, 216, 220. 
Herrick, Francis Hobart, 15. 
Hesry, Pere, 161, 180,240,261. 
Hill, James J., 35. 
Hind, Henry Yule, 55. 
Horse, the Natashquan 

priests', 71, 72. 
Hospitals, Grenfell, 143, 144, 

146. 
Houses, summer, 222; winter, 

133, 222. 
Hovgaard, Prof. William, 212, 

216, 219. 
Huard, Abbe, 81, 160, 161, 

164, 235, 244. 
Hudson's Bay Company, 10, 

33,46,70,83,89,176,178. 
Hunt, Edward, 270. 
Hveiti, 213. 

Ice, 87. 
Iceberg, 22. 
Iceland, 214, 305-13. 



lie au Bois, 245, 255, 267. 
lie Bayfield. See Sandy Isle, 
lie de la Providence, 160. 
lies Affligees, 172. 
Indians, 10, 47, 53, 54-57, 83- 
85, loi, 167, 168, 182, 
196, 228, 231, 302-04. 
appearance, 56, 84. 
camping-place, 54, 83,84, 198. 
dogs, 54, 55, 83. 
dress, 55, 56. 
migration-routes, 57, 178, 

179. 
numbers of, 33. 
photographing, 83, 84. 
portage paths, 41, 44, 163, 

178, 181, 194, 196-201. 
race, 55. 

religious rites, 57, 82. 
sweat-house, 199, 200. 
Ingalls, William, 2, 3, 18. 
International Grenfell Asso- 
ciation, 145. 
Iris, blue, Iris versicolor and 
Iris setosa, var. cana- 
densis, 61. 
Island of Birds, 242. 
Isles of the Blest, 220. 

Jack Nasty Passage, 232. 
Jacques Cartier's Harbor, 189, 

190-92. 
Jay, Labrador, Perisoretis 

canadensis nigricapillus, 

200, 203. 
Jestico Island, 5. 
Jigging for cod, 267, 268. 
Job Brothers and Company, 

Limited, 188, 244. 
Joncas, Capt. A. Edmond, 36, 

77-80, 108, 136, 163. 



347 



INDEX 



Joncas, Richard, 46. 

Jones, Mr., of Bradore, 22, 

236, 237, 263. 
Jones, Gilbert, 118. 
Jones's Point, 237. 
Juliet Harbor, 141, 142. 

Kakas, William, 33. 

Kegashka, 81. 

Kekarpoui Islands, 172. 

Kenty Island, 161. 

King George the Fifth Sea- 
men's Institute, 145. 

Kinglet, Ruby-crowned, Re- 
gulus calendula, 158. 

Kittiwake, Rissa tridactyla, 

234- 
Komatik, 78, 133. 
Krsekiber, 218. 

Labrador, The, 32. 
Labrador, Canadian, 32, 247, 

292. 
Labrador, Newfoundland, 32, 

247, 292, 293. 
Labrador Fur Company, 46. 
Labrador Peninsula, area of, 

31- 
definition of, 31, 32. 
population of, 33. 
Labrador tea. Ledum grmn- 
landicum, 43, 60, 69, 155. 
Labradorians, hospitality of, 

133, 244- 
Lake Island, 121. 
Lake Misstassini, 259. 
Lalo, Ambroise, 100. 
Larch, Larix laricina, 69, 90. 
Lark, Horned, Otocoris al- 

pestris, 14, 21, 22, 91, 92, 

129, 195. 



Prairie horned, Otocoris al- 

pestris praticola, 92. 

Shore. See Lark, Horned. 

Laurel, pale, Kalmia polifolia, 

12, 65, 69, 88. 
Laurentian, S.S., 66. 
Laurentian Mountains, 65, 81, 

87. 
Laws, game, 294, 295. 
Leatherleaf, Chamcedaphne 

calyculata, 69. 
Leif, the son of Eric, 211-13. 
Licenses, fish and game, 295. 
Lichens, 65, 142, 150, 155, 

158, 211, 230. 
Limestone, Cambro-Silurian, 

36, 130, 248. 
Lincoln, B., letter from, 322, 
Lincoln, Thomas, 2, 12, 16, 

48, 50, 321. 
Linnaea, Linncea borealis var. 

americana, 252. 
Little, Dr. John Mason, Jr., 

145, 281. 
Little Coxipi River, 193, 196. 
Little Mecattina Island, 18, 

20, 151, 153. 
Little Natashquan River, 8, 9, 

45, 47, 61, 70. 
Little Shecatica River, 193, 

194. 
Liveyeres, 302. 
Lobster, Homarus americanus, 

276. 
Lobster Bay, 210. 
Lolo, Pierre, 84. 
Long Point of Blanc Sablon, 

240, 244, 261. 
Loon, Gavia immer, 203. 
Red-throated, Gavia stellaia, 

15, 123, 124. 



348 



INDEX 



Lovage, Scotch, Ligusticum 

scoticum, 246, 
Lungwort, Mertensia marit- 

ima, 57. 
Lydia Harbor, 210. 

McDuff, Dr., 29. 
McKinnon, Jacques, 172, 173. 
Magdalen Islands, 5, 81, 190, 

330. 
Marconi Wireless Station, 38, 

144. 
Markland, 213, 216, 220. 
Marmette. See Murre. 
Maryland Yellow - throat, 

Geothlypis trichas, 90. 
Masur, 213. 
Matchiatik Island, 125, 

127. 
Mecattina Harbor, 20, 166. 
Meigle, S.S., 270. 
Menier, Gaston, 34. 
Menier, Henri, 34. 
Merganser, Red - breasted, 

Mergus senator, 43, 206, 

207. 
Michaux, Pierre Jean-Bap- 

tiste, 21, 166, 
Michel, Leander, 167. 
Migrations of water-birds, 30, 

107. 
Mineral wealth of Labrador, 

283. 
Mink, Putonus vison, 278. 
Mission of St. Anne, 160, 

161. 
Misstassini Island, 121. 
Misstassini Lake, 259, 
Molony, M., 83. 
Montreal, 27. 
Morrell, Thomas, 247. 



Mosquitoes, 16, 20, 47, 76, 

no, 280, 333, 334. 
Motor-boats, 188, 208, 211, 

238, 292. 
Mount Cartier, 238. 
Mount St. John, 35. 
Mountain Cranberry, Vac- 

cinium Vitis-IdcBa var. 

minus, 53, 54, 65, 183, 

184, 211, 217-21, 262. 
Murre, Uria troille, 9, 13, 89, 

1 1 1, 1 14-16, 139, 284, 290. 
Briinnich's, Uria lomvia, 

117. 
Ringed, Uria ringvia ( = 

U. troille), 115, 116. 
Murres, destruction of, 284- 

86, 290. 
Muskrat, Labrador, Fiber 

zibethicus aquilonius, 278. 
Musquarro, 82. 
Mussey, Dr. Reuben Dimond, 

334- 
Mutton Bay, 20, 163, 164. 

Nadeau Island, 162. 
Nansen, Fridtjof, 212, 218, 

280, 
Napetepi Bay, 210. 
Napetepi Lake, 210. 
Natashquan, history of, 72, 
Natashquan, steamer, 66, 67. 
Natashquan Harbor, 8, 63, 

64, 332. 
Natashquan River, 10, 42, 46, 

54, 63, 80, 179. 
Natashquan Village, 45, 46, 

66, 72. 
Netagamon River, 142. 
Newfoundland, 25, 209, 210, 

216. 



349 



INDEX 



Newfoundland, Bishop of, 95. 

Newfoundland fishermen, 121, 

137, 156, 234, 235, 289, 

293, 295- 
Norsemen, 212-22. 
North- West River, 178, 179, 

282. 
Notre Dame de Lourdes, 261. 

Oakes, William, 23. 
Observation, lack of, 60. 
Old Fort, 222-26. 
Old Fort Island, 222. 
Old Post, 168, 172. 
Olson, Julius E., 211. 
Open seasons for game, 295. 
Outard. See Goose, Canada. 
Outer Island, iii. 

Packard, Prof. A. S., 238. 

Parkman, Dr. George, 320, 
335- 336. 

Partridge-berry. See Moun- 
tain Cranberry. 

Pashashiboo, 45. 

Paul Nadeau Island, 183. 

Perroquet. See Puffin. 

Perroquet Island, 23, 239- 

43- 

Perroquet Islands, 81, 288. 

Petrel, Wilson's, Oceanites 
oceanicus, 234. 

Pewee, wood, Myiochanes vi- 
rens, 51. 

Phalarope, Northern, Lobipes 
lohatus, 326. 

Piashte Bay, 36, 41, 44, 52. 

Pinguicula, Pinguicula vul- 
garis, 129, 130, 135. 

Pipit, Anthus rubescens, 129, 
130, 158, 195- 



Pitcher-plant, Sarracenia pur- 
purea, 69. 

Plover, Killdeer, Oxyechus vo- 
ciferus, 41. 

Pointe au Maurier. See Seal- 
Net Point. 

Pointe des Monts, 32. 

Pork cake, 269. 

Porpoise, Phocoena phoccena, 
106, 107, 233. 

Port of Brest. See Brest, Port 
of. 

Portage, Grand, 196-201. 

Porter, Russell W., 180. 

Potatoes, 7 1 . 

Poulailler, 136. 

Poverty, 134. 

Ptarmigan, Willow, Lagopus 
lagopus, 15, 237. 

Puffin, Prater cula arctica, 13, 
24, 89, 234, 239-43, 288, 
289. 
destruction of, 242, 288, 

289. 
nesting-burrows of, 241, 289. 

Pyrola, One-flowered, Moneses 
uniflora, 252. 

Quatachoo, 45. 
Quebec, 28. 
Quintal, 132. 

Rail, Virginia, Rallus vir- 

ginianus, 104. 
Rapide Lessard, 174. 
Raven, Corvus corax princi- 

paUs, 157, 175, 264, 327. 
Redpoll, Acanthis linaria, 261. 
Redstart, Setophaga ruticUla, 

42, 43- 
Reeves, A. M., 211. 



S50 



INDEX 



Reindeer, Rangifer tarandus, 

149, 150. 
Reindeer moss (lichen), 65, 69, 

175,183,225. 
Reservations, bird, 172, 296- 

300, 315. 316. 
Rigaud, Philippe de, 227. 
Rigolet, La Grande, 183. 
Rigolet, La Petite, 174-76. 
Ripley, schooner, i, 4, 13, 18, 

23, 74, 122, 163. 
River as a guide, 195. 
Robertson, Samuel, 21, 223, 

224. 
Robertson, Samuel, 3d, 168-71. 
Robin, Planesticus migrato- 

rius, 9, 184. 
Robin, George, 203. 
Robin, Louis, 189, 203. 
Rocky Bay, 210. 
Romaine, 83. 

derivation of name, 83. 
Romaine, Old, 13, 89, 96, 140. 
Romaine River, 83, 86, 87,179. 
Ross, Sir Charles, 86. 

Sable Island, 27. 
Saga of Eric the Red, 212. 
St. Anthony, cooperative 
. store, 146. 

guest-house, 145. 

hospital, 145. 

industrial house, 145. 

mission school, 145. 

orphanage, 145. 
St. Augustine Hudson's Bay 

Post, 176. 
St. Augustine River, 178, 179- 

81. 
St. James River, 189, 191, 192. 
St. John, Harold, botanist, 27, 



75, 86, 92, 93, 124, 129, 
135. 163, 177, 197, 201. 

St. John River, 35. 

Saint-Malo, 190. 

St. Mary's Island, 80, 131. 

St. Paul River, 21, 197, 227, 
229. 

St. Paul's Bay, 228. 

Salmon, Salmo salar, 35, 85, 

103, 104. 
Salmon Bay, 232. 

Salmon fishing, 41, 45, 103, 

104, 133, 140, 175, 228, 
229. 

Salt-marshes, 61, 62. 
Sand-banks, marine, 63, 184. 
Sand dunes, 81, 260, 262, 263. 
Sandpiper, Least, Pisobia min- 

utilla, 124, 125. 
Spotted, Actitis macularia, 

108, 109. 
Sand-ridges, 88. 
Sandstone, 240, 248-50. 
Sandy Island, 182, 184. 
Scoter, White-winged, Oide- 

mia deglandi, 8. 
Scurvy, 134, 277, 280. 
Seal, gray, Haliclmrus grypus, 

138. 
Harbor, Phoca vituUna, 38, 

133, 138- 
Harp, Phoca groinlandica, 

133, 138. 
Sealing, 276, 277. 
Seal-meat, 38, 39, 183, 277. 
Seal-netting, 138, 168. 
Seal-Net Point, 131, 135, 289. 
Sea goose. See Phalarope, 

Northern. 
Sea-pigeon. See Guillemot, 

Black. 



351 



INDEX 



Sea Star, schooner, 36, 45, 74, 

75,131,135,162,173,195. 
Sedge, Dewey's, Carex dewey- 

ana, 252. 
Seebohra, Henry, 202. 
Seven Islands, 33, 179. 
Shag Island, 144. 
Shaler, Prof. N. S., 260. 
Shattuck, Dr. F. C, 319. 
Shattuck, George C, Sr., let- 
ter from, 319-23. 
Shattuck, George C, i, 4. 

letters from, 323-35. 
Shecatica Bay, 188, 189. 
Shecatica Inlet, 189, 192, 193, 

204. 
Shecatica Island, 208. 
Sheldrake. See Merganser. 
Shooting, spring, 288. 
Silver- weed, Potew/i//a pacifica, 

61. 
Skraelings, 215. 
Sleeping-bag, 75, 76. 
Smith, Donald Alexander. See 

Strathcona, Lord. 
Snipe, GalUnago delicata, 260. 
Snow, 151, 163, 165. 
Snowberry, Chiogenes his- 

pidula, 226, 252. 
Soil formation, 65, 156. 
Solomon-seal, dwarf, Matan- 

themum canadense, 252. 
Sparrow, Fox, Passerellailiaca, 

9, 21, 47, 184, 202. 
\Anco\n' s,Melospiza lincolni, 

II, 12, 21, 26, 48-50, 

260. 
Song, Melospiza melodia, 

48, 259, 260. 
Swamp, Melospiza georgiana, 

260. 



Tree, Spizella monticola, 91. 
White-crowned, Zonotrichia 
leucophrys, 21, 39, 175, 
184, 195. 
White-throated, Zonotri- 
chia albicoUis, 30, 47, 184. 

Sparr Point, 21, 168. 

Species, value of, 104-06. 

Sphagnum, 69, 88. 

Spiders, 69, 70, 183. 

Spitting habit, 209, 210. 

Splitting-table, 85, 132. 

Spring, Arctic, 9, 10, 165. 

Spruce, black, Picea mariana, 

65, 68, 69, 70, 81, 87, 90, 

155, 175, 193, 257, 258, 

263. 

white, Picea canadensis, 66. 

" Squatters of Labrador, The," 
21, 166, 236. 

Star-flower, Trientalis ameri- 
cana, 252. 

Storms, 8, 14, 17, 93-95- 

Straits of Belle Isle, 31, 244, 

255. 
Strand wheat, Elymus are- 

narius, 142, 183,211,214, 

262, 281. 
Strathcona, Lord, 178, 275, 

282. 
Strathcona, S.S., 146, 188, 226. 
Stumps at Blanc Sablon, 252- 

59- 
Subsidence of coast, 61, 62, 

121, 158. 
Sundew, Drosera rotundifolia, 

129. 
Sunrise, 153. 
Sunset, 186, 187. 
Swallow, Eave, Petrochelidon 

lunifrons, 41. 



352 



INDEX 



Sweet-gale, Myrica Gale, 69. 
Swiftsure, Cutter, 324. 
Syrinx, 87. 

Tabatiere Bay, 167, 168. 
Taverner, P. A., 103, 104. 
Telegraph line, 132. 
Temperature, 20, 25, 53, 68, 

151, 171- 

Tern, Caspian, Sterna caspia, 
107, 108. 
Common, Sterna hirundo, 

44, 108. 
Royal, Sterna maxima, 108. 

Theberge, Abbe, 160. 

Thrills in the pursuit of hob- 
bies, 201, 202. 

Thrush, Hermit, Hylocichla 
guttata pallasi, 30. 

Tickle, 230. 

Tinker. See Auk, Razor- 
billed. 

Tishkatawaka, 63. 

Toads, trilling of, 64. 

Tommie, steam trawler, 266. 

Trees, age of, 259. 

Tremblay, Dr., 29. 

Trinity, 28. 

Triple Island, 82. 

Trout, Salvelinus, I'JT, 203. 

Trout fishing, 268, 269. 

Trout River, 33. 

Tuberculosis, 209, 210. 

Tundra. See Bog. 

Turnip-tops, 39. 

Turnstone, Ruddy, Arenaria 
interpres morinella, 326. 

Tyrker Southman, 213, 218, 
221. 



Ungava, 31. 



Vatergamashook, 199. 

Vie toujours. See Lungwort. 

Vignot, Alfred, 72. 

Vignot, Charles, 72, 164. 

Vignot, Paul, 72. 

Vikings, 214. 

Vinber, 213, 216-22. 

Vinland, 211-22. 

Vinvio, 213, 219. 

Violet, great-spurred, Viola 

Selkirkit, 252. 
Voyage, 245. 

Wakefield, Dr. Arthur, 210. 
Walrus, Odobenus rosmarus, 

203. 
Wapitagun, 90, 121. 

derivation of name, 121. 
Wapitagun Harbor, 13, 122, 

123, 
War news, 35, 38, 58, 164. 
Warbler, Black and White, 
Mniotilta varia, 42. 
Black-poll, Dendroica Stri- 
ata, 42, 43, 157, 175. 
Black-throated green, Den- 
droica virens, 42, 43. 
Magnolia, Dendroica mag- 
nolia, 42. 
Tennessee, Vermivora pere- 

grina, 30, 42, 51, 52. 
Yellow, Dendroica cestiva, 42. 
Yellow palm, Dendroica 
palmarum hypochrysea,\2. 
Wilson's, Wilsonia pusilla, 
21, 86, 87. 
Washsheecootai, 82, 113. 
Watcheeshoo, 45, 59. 
Waterfalls, 9, 41, 44, 45, 64, 

65, 142, 194, 195. 
Water-power in Labrador,283. 



353 



INDEX 



Water thrush, Seiurus nove- 
boracensis, 42, 194, 

Webster, Daniel, 337. 

West, Dr. J. H., 29, 143. 

Whabby. See Loon, Red- 
throated. 

Whale, sub-fossil, 64. 

Whale factory, 30. 

Wheat, 220. 

Whistling for a breeze, 143. 

Widgeon, European, Mareca 
penelope, 41. 

Wilcomb, Capt., 22. 

Willson, Beckles, 178. 

Windlasses for seal-nets, 138. 

Wine-making of the Norse- 
men, 217-22. 



Winter, pleasures of, 133, 134. 
Wizard, schooner, 22. 
Wolf Bay, 117. 
Wood, Col. William, 298. 
Wood-piles, 222, 
Wood-pulp, 30, 283. 
Wren, Winter, Nannus Me- 
malis, 21, 124. 

Yankee Harbor, 131. 
Yellow-throat, Maryland, 
Geothlypis trichas, 90. 

Zone, Arctic, 41, 90, 91, 130, 

158, 193. 
Hudsonian, 41, 91, 158, 

193. 



CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS 
U . S . A 






APR]! 



